


Man That You Fear

by DRHPaints



Category: Bill Hader - Fandom, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel/Demon Relationship, Angst, Antichrist!Eddie, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Blow Jobs, Car Accidents, Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Healing Comedy, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Blood, Nephilim!Richie, Rimming, Secondary Character with Cancer, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27142619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak, a successful Risk Analyst for Docet Insurance, has an uncanny ability to discern who is worthy of a contract from his company. But what he doesn’t tell his superiors is that visions of sin, both the past and those to come in prospective clients, are what keep Eddie in the number one position.Richie Tozier, a comedian whose jokes bring laughter, joy, and a surprising amount of healing to all who witness him, is in a heavy place following a personal loss.When the two collide, will darkness overshadow the light, or can Eddie’s nature be redeemed in the face of Richie’s endearing presence?
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Taylor. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> The title is from a song of the same name by Marilyn Manson
> 
> I will add tags as I go along. Not sure how long this will be and apologies if it takes a minute to update. I have several requests pending.

Smoothing over the crisp black lapel of his suit, Eddie checked his hair and teeth in the mirror, dark eyes peering at his reflection. Catching sight of a hangnail, Eddie slid open the left hand drawer and retrieved the clipper from its permanent location, rectifying the dangling intruder without hesitation.

Snatching up his briefcase, Eddie glanced around his tasteful, if severe, apartment, double checking everything continued to remain in order before locking the door behind him and leaving for work.

Risk analysis may not be the flashiest of jobs, but Eddie enjoyed doing it, and he did it well. Almost too well, some might say. After three years of working for Docet, the second largest insurance company in the state, and if Eddie had anything to say about it, after the next fiscal year, they would be the first, Eddie was the top Risk Analyst by a mile. 

Of course Eddie had his accounting degree, and he did his due diligence, analyzing the necessary data to evaluate whether or not a potential client was worth extending a life insurance policy or what have you, but the truth was something...else told Eddie if a client was worthy of their contract. 

Someone would come before him, typically at least a wee bit nervous, their anxieties heightened by Eddie’s sharp metallic desk and the perpetual tinkling of his tiny fountain on the decorative table in the corner of the room, which Eddie found soothing but, for whatever reason, unnerved anyone who crossed his threshold. As they shook his hand, if Eddie could get them to meet his eyes, a smoky, rich brown so deep they were almost black, in that instant he knew.

_Pillow shoved over her face. Calling 911 with fake sobs. Shit eating grin as the check arrives in the mail for his wife’s ‘accidental death’ payout. Stepping onto a transatlantic flight. Margarita in hand under an umbrella on the beach_

Or _Metal crunching. Vehicles screeching to a halt. Smell of Scotch overpowering as she stumbles to the other car, wallet outstretched. ‘Can we keep this under the table? Do this off the books?’ Not the first time. Not the last._

Or _Rising scent of sulfur. Lights another match. Eyes widening, teeth bared in erotic glee. And another. And another...Out of hand. Panicking. Call 911. Chalk it up to bad wiring. He’ll try again. This time, the blaze will block the door. Body bent, coughing. Scrambling. Consumed. Sometime in December by the look of the tree dancing in the flames…_

They weren’t quite words that rose in Eddie’s consciousness. More a flurry of images. And a certainty spread in Eddie like decaying black mold that the prospective client perched before him was not to be trusted with Docet’s business.

Eddie’s superior, Mr. Lebial, often marveled at his stellar success rate, clapping him on his shoulder and saying, “It’s like someone’s given you all the right answers!” Eddie would force a smile. He tried, once, to explain to someone he thought might be a friend about how he was able to divine who he should bestow the gift of security unto and whom to deny. They became silent, eyes wide, and Eddie found they staunchly ignored his texts after that. From then on Eddie kept silent about his ability to see into clients. And it wasn’t just clients. Eddie realized he was able to hone the skill, sharpen it to a fine, exacting blade. With a touch and a peek of his penetrating gaze, the pictures floated into his imagination and Eddie’s awareness of their machinations for mischief crystalized.

Though these visions, or whatever they might be, Eddie honestly didn’t enjoy putting too much thought into them beyond their applicability in business or his personal life, took the form of images, there was also that nagging sound. That whisper, that lulling, or even commanding taunt that would sometimes claw up Eddie’s spine, lurching over his head to drip poison in his ear, did indeed possess a voice.

It often followed the pictures. A man would bump into Eddie on the subway, catch his eye with an apologetic grin. _Wiggling a ring off a work-roughened finger. Again and again. A woman, beautiful but suspicious, peeking at his phone with narrowed eyes. Hopping in hot showers, scrubbing off perfume, cologne, lipstick, the glowing fingerprints of half a dozen hands._

And then the voice would come, urging Eddie forward. _Flash a smile, Eddie. Turn, liftup your arm and grasp the bar. Let him see the curve of your ass. Toss a wink._ Eddie wasn’t a social man, per se. In fact he was decidedly isolated. All through school, and now at Docet, Eddie tried to be amiable, approachable, but people skirted him, as if they could sense something about Eddie, a smell perhaps, that indicated they should be wary, keep their distance.

But getting someone into bed, that was another matter entirely. Eddie had no problem seducing any partner he desired. Man, woman, and anyone in between or outside, once Eddie’s shadowed eyes sank purposefully into their own, his agile hands grazing their skin, a haze would fall over their countenance. And Eddie relished the way his partners came apart beneath his skilled ministrations.

So when his coworker Corson invited Eddie out to a comedy show, of all things, with him and his wife Daeva, he was taken aback. Black SUV rolling to a stop outside of the club, several people milled about on the sidewalk and Eddie emerged through the cloud of smokers to discover Corson and Daeva, patiently waiting and smiling.

“Shall we?” Corson suggested. Though Eddie didn’t know him well, there was something a bit...off about Corson. The light behind his eyes, though present, was cold, like fluorescents in a sterile office building. Shark-like smile permanently hitched on his razor sharp features, Corson paraded around the office, absolutely dripping in wealth, and was one of the only people Eddie encountered who comfortably strayed near him outside of an erotic tryst. 

Initially Eddie wondered if Corson was similar to himself. As a head executive, he was also thriving at the company and maybe, just maybe, the pictures and the voice shadowed him, too.

But then one day in the break room, bending down and about to fill his coffee, Corson tripped, fingers clasping Eddie’s forearm for a moment and gray eyes touching his own. “Oops. Sorry there, Kaspbrak.”

_A child tumbles from a red bike. Nothing. No reaction as he watches his own blood trickle, head tilting curiously at the gaping wound. Choking. A man at the table next door, fingers scrambling at his throat. Everyone rising. Panicking. Shouting. Corson sits, unmoved, slicing another bloody bite of steak. Teeth bared. Hair wrapped around a tearing hand. Screaming. Thrusting. Biting. Maybe if he punishes her he’ll finally feel something._

As Corson straightened himself and tugged down his jacket, the whisper echoed in Eddie’s ear. _Empty vessel._

So no, they were not fashioned from the same tenebrous cloth, but there was a vacancy in Corson that allowed him to remain in Eddie’s presence without fear. And a part of Eddie suspected Corson couldn’t identify fear if it strolled up to him with a smile and shook his hand as they took the stairs down to the crowded club, wondering if Daeva was aware of her husband’s deformity.

Claiming a small round table near the front, Corson leaned across and raised his voice to be heard over the din. “The comic is someone I knew in college. Hilarious. I think you’ll really like him.”

Eddie nodded. To be honest, he didn’t go in for comedy. Were Eddie to examine himself, he would have difficulty remembering the last time he laughed. But as the waitress brought his Jack and Coke, the drinks were strong and Eddie had no other plans, so he sat back and attempted to enjoy himself as the announcer called over the speakers.

“Alright Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to The Comedy Cellar, Richie Tozier!” A tall man, scruffy with a mop of unruly curls, jogged on stage with a wave, tipping up his glasses before he adjusted the microphone up to his considerable stature.

As Eddie sipped his drink, he wasn’t particularly absorbed in the tale Richie spun on the stage. Then, to his surprise, the corner of his mouth hitched up at the punchline. Richie told another joke and Eddie caught himself tittering. Another and Eddie allowed a half laugh to saunter past his teeth.

By the end, eyes scrunched and clutching his chest, Eddie fought for air in his mirth, flabbergasted that the dirty comedy tickled him so as Richie descended the stage, striding over to their table, hands in the pockets of his dark wash jeans.

“Hey buddy.” Flashing a wide smile at Corson, Richie pulled out a chair and flopped down with a heavy sigh before sticking out his lower lip and blowing an errant tendril out of his face.

“Richie, man. Great set!” Predatory smile that never met his eyes beaming, Corson slapped him on the shoulder. “This is Eddie. He works with me at Docet.”

Extending a large hand, Richie grinned. “Hey Eddie, nice to meet you.”

Palm swallowing his own, Eddie instantly retracted with a grimace, zap crawling over his skin. “Ouch!”

Richie shook his fingers at the shock. “Eesh, sorry.” Glancing at the stage, he frowned. “Must be static from the microphone or something.” 

_Why so miserable?_ The words bubbled in Eddie’s mind unbidden, and internally he sifted through the evidence before him as he did with insurance claims. Richie rested his forearms on the table contentedly, ordering a triple bourbon once the waitress came by. Pink lips constantly smiling, it appeared genuine to Eddie, his sapphire eyes sparkling behind the thick glasses as he continued cracking jokes and slipping in and out of silly voices and impressions. 

Nothing about this man was sad. In fact, Richie was joy incarnate. When Daeva made a remark that, in Eddie’s opinion, was barely amusing, Richie collapsed in a fit of giggles and Eddie tilted his head at him in wonder. His left eye, which Eddie clocked as being slightly smaller than the other, shrank to a sliver as his overbite, comprised of rounded teeth, became exaggerated, body rocking back and forth in glee, quite literally slapping his knee as he stomped his foot on the dusty club floor, the high pitched mirth squeaking from Richie without shame.

After a few minutes at their table, Eddie became uncomfortably aware that Corson was trying to set him up. Never one to hide his sexuality, he wouldn’t have minded, particularly, but it was the fact that Corson sprang it on him without asking, shoving him and Richie together in a social situation and expecting a connection to manifest that irked him.

When Corson blatantly said, “I think you two would have a lot in common.” Richie caught Eddie’s eye, nose flaring slightly and lifting an eyebrow as his mouth settled into a flat line. Eddie wasn’t exactly shocked when Corson and Daeva ‘suddenly remembered’ they had to get up early the next day and “Oh but you two should stay out. Enjoy yourselves.” Forcing a smile, Eddie nodded as they made their goodbyes, and once they were out of earshot Richie leaned forward.

“Fucking straight people.” Chuckling, he shook his head. 

Eddie finished his drink, bobbing his head. “Right? How presumptuous. I don’t even know Corson that well.”

“Me neither!” Richie held up his wide palms in exasperation. “But of course…” Rolling his eyes, Richie sat back. “They think ‘Oh, the only two queer dudes I know? Bet they wanna bang. Who gives a shit if they have anything in common or find each other attractive. Better fucking pair them off, just to be safe.”

Eddie cackled, pounding his fist on the table. “Holy shit, it’s so true! Why do they do that?”

“I dunno man, but it’s obnoxious.” The waitress swung by and they both got refills before Richie bent forward conspiratorially. “Have you ever had them do that thing where, as soon as they find out you’re queer, they start listing every queer person they’ve ever interacted with in their entire fucking lives?”

Chuckling, Eddie nodded. “Oh god, yes. That’s so embarrassing.” Eddie shook his head and smiled. “Like you don’t need to verbally prove to me you’re ‘down with the gays.’ Just treat me like a human and we’ll be fine.”

Giggling, Richie pointed. “Right? It’s always ‘Oh, I went to high school with a lesbian!’ Uhh….good for you, Karen. So did everyone else.”

Eddie leaned back, chair legs lifting as he roared with laughter. “Fuck, that’s so true it hurts.” Wiping his eyes, Eddie took a drink and they fell quiet for a moment, during which he found his cocoa-colored eyes scanning Richie.

He was actually pretty sexy. In a disheveled way. And he was ridiculously _large._ If Eddie had to guess he probably had nearly half a foot on him and at least fifty pounds, but he wasn’t exceptionally overweight. A soft tummy, but otherwise Richie was an incredibly broad man, shoulders that could carry the world’s sins, hint of a firm chest beneath his rumpled t-shirt, and his hands. Eddie was fascinated by his hands. Massive and elegant, the way his thumb trailed over the condensation on his glass was erotic beyond measure. Eddie figured as big as Richie was, and as compact as Eddie might be, lying down it was all the same, and he summoned the siren’s song of his charms.

Eddie wouldn’t consider himself pretentious, but he was self-aware enough to know his strengths, and as he unbuttoned his jacket, folding it carefully and placing it over one of the abandoned chairs, he preened a little, grounding the smirk that came to his lips when he noticed Richie’s cobalt eyes drifting to the suspenders and white button up stretched over his taught frame.

“So you’re at the insurance company with Corson?” Richie asked, tossing back the rest of his bourbon.

Eddie nodded, not-so-subtly rolling up his sleeves to expose his carved forearms. “Yeah. But I’m a Risk Analyst.”

“Oh?” Richie tilted his head. “What does that entail?” He crossed his arms and Eddie noticed the pleasant way his biceps stretched the fabric.

“Well, clients come to me and I go over data, look at similar previous claims, competitors—“

Laying his head back, Richie mock-snored loudly. “Sorry, buddy.” Straightening with a giggle, he shook his head. “That sounds mind-numbingly boring.”

Eddie chuckled, lifting his glass. “Well, we can’t all be comedians.”

“True.” Richie bobbed his head. “That would be chaos.”

“So how long have you been doing this?” Gesturing to the stage, Eddie took in Richie’s stubble, found himself imagining how it would feel beneath his skin.

“Oh, almost 20 years now.” Richie stuck out his lower lip, lifting an expansive shoulder. “Going okay, I guess.”

Eddie grinned. “You’re really good. I haven’t laughed like that since…” Staring off into the distance, he narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe ever.”

Richie smiled warmly, tilting his head. Waitress sidling up to their table, she glanced between them. “Two more for you boys?”

“Um…” Richie shifted his gaze to Eddie. “I think I’m good, actually. Thanks.”

Nodding, Eddie held up a hand. “Yeah, me too. Just the check, please.” For a moment they were silent as Eddie swirled the melting ice cubes in his glass. “So…” Turning his eyes on Richie, onyx in the dimness of the club, he allowed the heat to gather behind his stare. “You have any plans tonight?”

Richie swallowed. Eddie saw the muscle in his strong jaw flicker. “Nope.” His voice peeped out a bit higher than its usually flinty twang.

Never breaking, Eddie pitched his chin toward the door ever-so-slightly. “You want to get out of here? Go back to my place?”

Breath hitching, Richie released a tumbling exhale. “Yeah…” Licking his pink lips unconsciously, he nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie insisted on paying the tab before picking up his jacket and leading them out to his car. 

As Richie buckled himself in, the whooshing of his blood in his ears drown out the sounds of the city while Eddie drove. No part of Richie when he woke up that morning thought he would be having sex tonight, or any night in the near future, for that matter. But something about Eddie’s calm confidence was undeniably alluring.

It wasn’t like Corson, whose swagger could border on cocky. Instead there was a stillness about Eddie. As if he were crouched in the bushes waiting, watching, hungry for Richie, but unwilling to pounce until the opportune moment presented itself.

No, Richie’s concerns that day were not about getting laid. As per usual, he was fraught with worry about his performance, foregoing sleep until he found himself dazed and manic, the anxiety itching over his skin like a million fire ants as he shook out his arms back stage, praying the lights wouldn’t fall, that a hole wouldn’t appear in the floor, although he knew these fears were ridiculous and unfounded.

Once before the crowd, once that first wave of laughter hit and the heady euphoria washed over him, Richie was able to relax, if only a little. As difficult as the panic was, Richie lived for this. Ever since he was a child and his father told him, tears streaming down his cheeks as his face distorted with glee, that Richie was more effective than the nitrous he used on his patients for provoking a chuckle, Richie was hooked.

His mother thought his comedic sensibilities a bit on the blue side (and many, frankly, still did) but his father would plant a kiss to her forehead, rubbing her back with a smile and say, “Oh my angel, don’t worry. He’s a good boy. Richie’s just joking.”

Richie found as time went on that comedy was more than a hobby for himself, and as he fiddled with his craft and made a name in the industry, discovered it was more than just an idle distraction for others as well. At first, Richie figured he was a silly man who paced on a stage and told his stories, humorous though they may be, and crowds might laugh, but as they drifted to their various homes, surely his words would fade from their minds and Richie was content to know that he brightened their lives, if only for an hour.

But after a show in Phoenix during his first nationwide tour, Richie himself exhausted and weary at the thought of another fan meet-and-greet, a man approached cradling someone on his arm. Tragically thin to the point Richie hardly registered her as human, the woman’s dress hung off her bony exterior and as she smiled, Richie swore he could see the outlines of her teeth beneath her paper-thin skin.

“Mr. Tozier.” Voice barely above a whisper, she trembled as the man held her upright and assisted her steps forward. “I’m sorry to bother you. I just wanted to tell you how much your comedy means to me.” With frantic eyes the man asked if there wasn’t somewhere they could sit and Richie nodded, agog as he led them to a couple of chairs off to the side. 

Able to breathe slightly easier, the woman blinked, her hollow eyes staring at him endearingly. “I’ve been going through treatments for the last year or so. Brain cancer.” She gave a half smile and Richie swallowed heavily. “And when someone showed me your stuff on YouTube, it was the first time I laughed in months.” Shaking her head, her skinny lips spread and she let out a dusty chuckle. “I promised myself I’d make it to see you live.” Bony hand reaching out for his own, she tilted her bald head and squeezed his fingers. “And I did. I made it. Thank you.”

Overwhelmed, Richie didn’t know what to say for a moment. He asked her, Nina was her name, if he could give her a hug, and as soon as he lightly closed his arms around her fragile body, Richie began to weep. They took pictures together and he offered to sign anything she put before him, and she even gave him the link to her blog so he could follow her updates about her treatments.

When the tour finished, Richie collapsed for nearly a week, ignoring the calls from his agent. Finally Dennis showed up at his door with a gargantuan box. “Richie, you gotta take this shit, it’s crowding my office.”

Furrowing his brow, Richie hauled it inside and discovered hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of letters, cards, tiny gifts, from fans all over the states, and even a handful from other countries, telling him what his comedy meant to them. Richie read page after page and sobbed as people wrote how his jokes allowed them to reconnect with family members from whom they were estranged, how an interview he did, which Richie thought rather flippant and unimportant at the time, in which he mentioned how he struggled with anxiety and attempted to manage it, gave them the courage to try various endeavors in their own lives, how even on their darkest days, they would turn on his special, and tell themselves if I can just watch Richie tell one more joke, if I can laugh just once today, I can make it to tomorrow.

Ever since, even though his profession demanded a certain amount of lightheartedness, Richie took it seriously, knowing that his words held a power he couldn’t quite fathom, but was grateful for nonetheless.

But in these last few months, as Richie ground out his newest hour in the local clubs before recording a fresh special, a heaviness weighed on him. And sex and dating were the least of his concerns. So to be rushing off to the home of this handsome stranger, palms dewy as they approached the Upper West Side, Richie was conflicted. Yes, it would be good to know a man’s touch again, to hold and to be held, to maybe even lose himself in an intoxicating vapor of want and risk and lust. But part of Richie thought himself too fragile. Thought it too soon since it happened. Too soon since Gabe. _Fuck, has it really almost been a year?_

Arriving at his apartment, Eddie tucked his briefcase carefully against the wall. “Would you like a drink? Wine? I might have some bourbon somewhere…”

“Nope.” Hands in his pockets, Richie shook his head. “I’m good.”

Eddie nodded, turning and advancing toward him. He could tell by Richie’s shifting blue eyes and fidgety movements he was nervous, but he had no problem guiding the willing to euphoria. Cupping his sculpted cheek, Eddie drew Richie down to himself, eyes never closing until Richie’s pink lips touched his own. 

Richie’s mouth was exceptionally cold at first as Eddie snuck his tongue past his timid teeth, asking Richie’s to dance with him and Richie accepting as though he were a shy preteen at the school social who didn’t know the moves. Pushing the blue blazer from his massive shoulders, Eddie caressed them under his dexterous hands, and though Richie allowed it, his mouth moving trepidatiously into Eddie’s, his arms hung at his sides, fingers clenching and unclenching in the fabric of his jeans. 

Eddie plucked the front of Richie’s t-shirt, walking them backward to the bedroom. Crossing the threshold, Eddie wove his hands into Richie’s glorious curls, releasing a deep hum against him that never failed to set the spark in his partners.

But Richie did not melt beneath his touch, flesh pliable and yearning. He didn’t gasp under his lips, begging, clawing at Eddie like many who passed through his doors before. No. Richie’s mouth slowed. He leaned out of Eddie’s body. Eyes downcast, he stepped away, and took Eddie’s hand.

“I, um…” Voice tremulous, Richie couldn’t meet those sultry eyes, which, and maybe it was his imagination, didn’t seem to blink as often as normal people. “I’m sorry, I...I don’t think I can do this…”

“Oh.” Never faced with this situation and genuinely surprised, Eddie pulled his head back, then nodded slowly. “Oh. Okay then. That’s...that’s fine.”

“Sorry…” Chewing his lip, Richie’s shoulders curled in on themselves, he hunched over, studying his shoes. “I just, um…” Speaking barely above a whisper, he ran a large thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. “I lost someone recently and I...I don’t think I’m ready yet…”

“Ah okay.” Eddie gave his hand a squeeze. “Bad breakup? I get it.” Richie lifted his eyes, deep blue pools of anguish.

_Richie on the phone. Running. The hospital. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming. Fist shattering the wall before four nurses drag him away. An empty bed. Slogging meaninglessly from room to room. Shaving. Staring longingly at the blade until Richie decides it’s easier to do without, stay scruffy, the desire to join the man he loved too tempting…_

Blinking back, a weight settled in Eddie’s gut as he gleaned the meaning of the vision. But he couldn’t help but wonder why Richie shimmered in every image, his pained visage almost seeming to glow. _Must just be the whiskey._

“No…” Richie creaked out before looking to the floor again. Richie didn’t want his lip to be quivering. Didn’t want the tears to sting. Not here. Not in this strange, sexy man’s apartment. That’s not what this was supposed to be. That’s not how this was supposed to happen. As as he bit his cheek and tried to shove the burbling grief back down, Richie prayed he could keep it together.

“Oh…” Nodding, Eddie swallowed. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been very difficult.”

Richie just lifted a shoulder, not trusting himself to speak in that moment as Eddie dropped his fingers. Putting his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels and shook his head. “I’m sorry...You...you probably just want to get off and I…” With a sad half chuckle, Richie looked at the ceiling and blinked. “I made this depressing as shit.”

The wicked whisper tickled Eddie’s ear. _You can still have him. Lonely. Desperate. Take what’s yours._ But Eddie shook it away. “No, Richie. It’s alright. You’re fine.” Touching his elbow, Eddie offered a smile. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

With something resembling a grin, Richie tipped his head from side to side. “Thanks, Eddie. You’re really kind.”

That one got him. No one called Eddie ‘kind.’ Smart, interesting, sexy, of course. But kindness was not a word people attributed to Eddie Kaspbrak, and to hear it from a man who knew him this briefly was jarring. 

“Alright...I’ll...I’ll head out then.” Richie took two steps toward the hallway, then froze. Slowly, he turned. “Hey, Eddie, um…” Rubbing his elbow with the opposite hand, Richie stared at the floor, spine severely curved and voice small. “You can say no if you want to, of course, but, um…” Growing quieter, Eddie had to take a step to hear him. “Could I stay? Maybe? And just…” Nose flaring for a second, Eddie thought Richie might cry. “Just sleep? I…” Blinking rapidly, Richie gritted his teeth and every muscle in his jaw jumped. When he spoke it was the whisper of a frightened child. “I don’t want to sleep alone again.”

Shattered man standing before him, Eddie considered for a moment as they both breathed in the silence of his bedroom. “Forget it…” Richie shook his head, turning away and sniffing a little. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t...that was stupid.” Shoving his hands back in his pockets, his long legs strode toward the door.

“Wait…” Eddie rested a hand on his shoulder and Richie turned to him, lips folded under and hastily wiping a finger below his glasses. “Yeah. Yeah, you can stay Richie. I don’t have a problem with that.”

“Really?” Richie was scaredto hope. Too many things in the last months seemed like they could be fonts of solace, only to be ripped away.

Nodding, Eddie gestured to the bed. “Sure. No funny stuff. I promise.”

With a watery chuckle, Richie bobbed his head. Eddie disappeared into his closet for a moment, returning in an undershirt and boxers. Richie decided to shed his jeans, hands crawling over themselves before he and Eddie climbed into opposite sides of the mattress. Removing his glasses, Richie set them on the bedside stand and pulled the comforter up to his chest.

“You ready for me to turn the light off?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm.”

Darkness descending, they shuffled down in the sheets. Quiet, Richie stared at the ceiling of this man’s, this Eddie’s apartment, listening to his breathing, smelling him on the bedding. All sharp notes of mahogany and leather and spice and something earthy beneath it all Richie couldn’t identify. He couldn’t imagine what Eddie thought of him after that debacle, but at this point, Richie figured he didn’t have much dignity left to lose.

“Hey Eddie?” 

Voice crackling into the darkness, Eddie shifted on the pillow and examined his long outline. “Yeah Richie?”

“Would you, um…” Richie paused for so long that Eddie considered prompting him before he finally spoke. “Hold me? Maybe?” Tone thick, Eddie heard his breath hitch. “Just until I fall asleep?”

“Yeah…” Eddie scooted over, rubbing Richie’s shoulder. “No problem.”

Richie shifted onto his side away from Eddie. His back was so expansive that Eddie had to fold the pillow beneath his head to wrap an arm around him properly. Interlacing their fingers, Richie gathered Eddie’s hand to his heart, knees tucking up to his chest as he turned his face into the pillow. Large body shaking beneath his grasp, Eddie thought at first maybe he should say something, but words of comfort didn’t exact come naturally to him. Instead, propping himself up on a hip, Eddie used his free fingers to stroke through Richie’s dark tendrils.

Soaking the pillowcase, Richie was raw, ashamed, embarrassed, anxious. But it had been ages since someone held him, caressed him, made him think even for a moment, a second that everything might be okay, that waking up tomorrow wouldn’t mean standing before another dreary day alone pretending to be the jester and hitching the false smile on his face. And so Richie allowed himself to sink into Eddie’s bed, his arms, his touch, and for the first night in almost a year, neither nightmares nor the phantom of his passed beloved invaded his dreams.


	2. 2

Waking to the light drifting through his floor to ceiling windows, Eddie blinked, disoriented for a moment as he bumped up against another body in his bed. Opening one bleary eye he saw Richie, who must’ve turned over toward him in the night, face soft, pink lips parted, large hands twitching a little between them as his curls spread over the pillow.

Eddie snuck out of bed to the bathroom, and when he returned Richie was stretching his tall form, leg shaking and yawning. 

“Good morning.” Eddie grinned, curling back under the covers.

Richie nodded sheepishly, plucking at the sheets and looking away. “Morning.” Folding the pillow under his head, Richie cleared his throat. “Thanks. For letting me stay. And...everything.”

“No problem.” Eddie shrugged.

Raising his oceanic eyes, Richie studied Eddie’s face. Handsome, in an uptight, almost solemn kind of way as he laid on the pillow beside him. Extending his arm, Richie hooked his hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, shuffling forward cautiously. Hesitating, Richie swooped in for a brief peck before leaning back, eyes darting and folding his lips under.

Eddie slithered towards him, fingers gliding up Richie’s firm arms, caressing his shoulders before ensconcing themselves in his fluffy hair as he drew him in, fusing their mouths together and folding his narrow frame into him. Richie let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a whine, sizable hands taking Eddie’s face and holding it close.

For a moment their tongues languidly swam, and then Richie swarmed over him, licking into Eddie’s mouth, huge hands roaming rapaciously as he rotated his thickening cock urgently against him. “Oh Eddie... _ yes… _ ” Richie breathed as he left his mouth, kissing over his chin, his neck, tugging down his shirt to reach his collarbone and chafing him with stubble along the way.

Off-kilter, but used to the reaction, Eddie caught his bearings. Wedging his arms underneath, he gripped Richie’s wrists, and despite the other man’s considerable bulk, flipped him over in one fell swoop, effectively pinning him to the mattress with a grin. 

Richie was alarmed for a second that Eddie was able to hoist him so effectively. But he was basically all muscle, so he supposed it wasn’t surprising as Eddie dove for his mouth, cocks brushing together through their boxers as he bore down against him and snuck a knee between Richie’s legs to guide them apart.

Chuckling, Richie smirked against his lips.  _ Oh no you don’t.  _ Long limbs snapping around Eddie like a Venus fly trap, he rolled, Eddie helpless in the cocoon of Richie’s body as he made his eyebrows dance before seeking his lips.

Eddie growled, writhing until he freed himself, bracing a palm at each of Richie’s vast shoulders, spreading his legs, and forcefully launching his body until Richie released, slamming him down with a snarl. ”Got ya!” Brown eyes fiery, Eddie bent down and took Richie’s lower lip between his teeth, stretching it out with a hiss.

Freakishly strong fingers pincered his wrists with a giggle. “Nope.” Richie pushed Eddie back but, thighs flexed and hip digging in the sheets, Eddie was ready for him. Facing one another side by side, arms straining and teeth bared, for a moment they were locked, immobile, before their mouths mashed together, lips angry and tongues vengeful as their hands shook above them, feet kicking at the mattress as they warred with one another.

Tearing his mouth away, Richie gasped. “Fuck this!” Left eye twitching, nose flaring, rounded teeth bared, for a moment Eddie thought he might leave when Richie sat up. But instead he flipped in the opposite direction, head to Eddie’s crotch, his own erection suddenly straining beneath boxers inches from Eddie’s face. “Compromise.” Richie muttered as he hastily yanked down Eddie’s waistband and, without warning, inhaled him.

“Oh Jesus fucking christ, Richie!” Hot circle of his mouth taking Eddie down to the root, Richie gobbled Eddie’s cock with such voracity for a moment he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, gasping and bunching his fist in Richie’s dark hair before, with a deep breath and a blink, Eddie shook his head. 

Peeling down Richie’s boxers, Eddie exposed his thick cock, head dewy with precum as he enveloped it with his lips. For Eddie, blowjobs were an art, an excuse to display his precise, exacting nature, and as he angled himself, tongue whipping around and jerking the shaft as he expertly fondled Richie’s balls, he soon received the desired reaction.

Richie moaned around Eddie’s sensitive flesh as he continued bobbing furiously, his hips rocking into Eddie’s face. Often going hands-free, especially when he got excited, Richie kept Eddie firmly sheathed, undulating the muscles of his throat and slathering him with his tongue, alternating with slamming his mouth vigorously up and down.

Whatever Eddie was doing beneath him, though, was exquisite, coaxing Richie to unknown heights of pleasure until his heels kicked at the headboard. “Oh fuck,  _ Eddie… _ ” Dropping his cock from his mouth, Richie pumped him strenuously, head back, panting and eyes clenched. “That feels so fucking good!  _ Yes! Fuck!” _

Twisting his head in one direction, Eddie’s wrist flicked in the other until his mouth and hand met in the middle of Richie’s substantial cock. Three of his other fingers began digging small, patient circles into the space behind Richie’s balls, externally stimulating his prostate until Richie ‘s pelvis shamelessly humped his face, giving up on Eddie entirely and laying on his back, both massive palms clamping over Eddie’s scalp.

“ _ Eddie! Yeah! So good! Your mouth! Fuck! Fuck! _ ” Richie’s legs swam on the bed like he was drowning, and his breathing was just as labored as he frenetically sought the hot depths of Eddie’s throat. “ _ Please! Suck me! Don’t stop! Fuck!” _

Retracting until he hollowed his cheeks over Richie’s tip, moving hard and fast, the noises that tumbled from Richie, starting as soft  _ uh’s _ issuing from his pink lips, revved to cascading whimpers, rolling into a sound not unlike a sob as he desperately thrashed beneath Eddie’s ministrations. 

“ _ Eddie! Eddie, I’m gonna cum! Fuck! FUCK! _ ” Richie removed his hands, but Eddie stayed down, Richie clinging to his calves in his final moments, hips juddering forward and leg shaking as a whine ripped from his throat, mouth agape and eyes squinted.

Cum splattering the back of his tongue, Richie tasted exceptionally sweet in addition to the salinic quality Eddie was used to as he eagerly swallowed, stroking out the last droplets as Richie’s wheezing breaths slowed and his uncoordinated fingers trickled down to play with Eddie’s hair.

“Fuck, Eddie…” Shaking his head, Richie licked his lips, eyes remaining shut. “So good…”

Once able to command air into his lungs, Richie sat up, shaking back his curls. And with a flub of his lips and a shake of his vast shoulders, he clamped a hand down on each of Eddie’s hips and descended.

“Oh dear god!” Eddie cried as Richie sloppily consumed him, sucking with urgency until saliva pooled around the base of Eddie’s cock and strings of drool dangled from the corners of his wide mouth.

“ _ Oh Richie! Oh god that feels so fucking good! Yes! Don’t stop! _ ” Tearing at his dark locks, Eddie rutted into his warm depths, neck arching and groaning as his eyelids fluttered. 

“ _ Fuck, Richie! You’re gonna make me cum! Can I cum in your throat? Huh? Please? _ ” Richie hummed in the affirmative and, teeth flashing and hips jumping, Eddie’s muscles flexed as he shoved Richie’s head down, jaw dangling open as a deep, grunting cry roared up from his chest. A dazzling light flashed behind Eddie’s eyelids for a moment, noise of the room fading, and as the initial spurt of his essence leaked from his body, a weightlessness engulfed him, a freedom previously unknown, Eddie’s body floating unencumbered momentarily as his cum painted the back of Richie’s throat.

Gagging, Richie coughed a little and as Eddie released him and his cum, which oddly was lukewarm, flowed over his tongue, some sense, some prodding instinct within him told Richie:  _ Spit it out!  _

Richie was a swallower. Always was, always would be. But the sensation that whatever swam behind his lips, were he to imbibe it, would somehow  _ infect _ him was undeniable. Though Richie knew it was a crazy thought to have, he hastily got up and padded his way to the bathroom, spitting into the toilet, flushing and making a show of washing his hands in hopes Eddie would think he had to go to the bathroom and wouldn’t be offended before rejoining him in bed.

Eddie’s breath calming, he glanced at Richie and raised an eyebrow. “Damn. That was really good.”

Pillow half under his head and half curled under his strong arms, Richie gave him a smile that was nothing short of coquettish. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.” Richie was tempted to reach out and hold Eddie’s hand, tiptoe his fingers across the bed and touch him, snuggle up and spend all day in bed together. But Eddie didn’t particularly strike him as that kind of fellow.  _ He’s not Gabe. _

Pang of nausea cinching his stomach, Richie swallowed, pressing a palm into the mattress and getting up. “Well...I guess I’ll head out then…”

“Oh.” Eddie nodded, giving a half grin. “Alright.” Richie dressed and Eddie walked him to the door. 

Pulling on his shoes, Richie paused, chewing his lip. “Um...Would you…” Richie scratched the back of his head, addressing his question to the designer paint on Eddie’s wall. “Would you want to get together again sometime?”

Typically Eddie didn’t do repeats. The exception being a couple of folks who also were into casual sex and knew that they and Eddie could drop in on one another, no strings attached, without issue. But Eddie could tell with Richie that wouldn’t be the case.

At the same time, however, that orgasm he had...Hell, orgasm didn’t even seem like a sufficient enough term for it as mind-blowing as it was, Eddie wasn’t willing to let that walk out of his door and out of his life without exploring what it was that made their connection so incandescent.

“Sure, Richie.” Eddie nodded. “Sounds good.” They exchanged numbers and, dropping his phone back in his pocket, Richie shifted his weight back and forth. 

Swooping in for a brief peck, his deep blue eyes darted over the room. “Alright...bye, Eddie.” With a tiny wave, he left and Eddie closed the door behind him, finding himself chuckling.

***

Flopped down on his couch in boxers and a day old t-shirt, Richie’s thumb hovered over Eddie’s name on his phone, mouth screwed up in consideration. Richie scratched his stubbled cheek, squirming. The fact that not only had he gone home with this attractive fellow he barely knew and had sex, not his typical MO, but he  _ cried  _ in front of him, had Richie apprehensive to make the first move. Letting his arm fall in his lap, Richie tossed his head back and sighed.

Phone buzzing in his hand, Richie glanced up and blinked in shock at Eddie’s name. A tinkling in his gut made him think he summoned the dark stranger, but of course that was insane. “Hello?”

“Hey Richie.” Eddie’s warm voice radiated over the line. “How’s it going?”

“Oh pretty good.” Richie smiled. “How about you?”

“Good. Good. So, would you like to have dinner?” Businesslike, Eddie wasted no time cutting to the chase. Though Richie planned on using his extensive collection of witty banter to ease into conversation with Eddie, he appreciated the no nonsense approach.

“Yeah, for sure. When are you thinking?”

Eddie responded immediately. “Are you free tonight? I get off of work around six. I could pick you up at seven.”

“Oh.” Richie folded his legs up on the couch, a wide grin blooming at the thought Eddie was so eager to see him. “Definitely. I can do that.”

“What’s your favorite restaurant?” 

“Oh, um…” Looking at his hands, Richie shook his head even though he knew Eddie couldn’t see him. “It’s...it’s Momofuku…” He muttered softly. “But it takes a month to get in there. So really, I’m fine with anything…”

“I can get us a table. Don’t worry about it.”

Richie found Eddie’s stern assurance incredibly arousing. “Oh...okay then. Thank you.” He gave Eddie his address and agreed to meet him outside of his building.

Black SUV parking before him, Richie smoothed his sweating palms over his gray pants and opened the door. Next to Eddie’s sharp black suit he felt tragically underdressed, but at the same time Richie wasn’t about to be an uncomfortable version of someone he wasn’t, so he tried to take a breath and settle back into the seat as they drove. 

“How was work today?” No real interest in what Eddie did, Richie thought he should try to make conversation regardless.

Eddie nodded as he rounded a corner. “Good. Gave out two life insurance policies, denied four others. Pretty certain I made the right choices.”

Mouth gaping in horror at the thought of those four people, and their families, who wouldn’t have the coverage needed were some tragedy to befall them, Richie’s eyes widened. And the nonchalant way Eddie threw out the comment, as if their lives were nothing more than numbers on a page, was concerning as he circled the block a couple of times before tapping the steering wheel and shaking his head. “Hope you don’t mind a bit of a walk. Seems busy.”

They parked a few blocks away from the restaurant, but the weather was decent as they strolled, Eddie’s hands in the pockets of his slender slacks as they cut an impressive swath down the sidewalk. Eyeing the approaching intersection, it was about four steps before Eddie realized Richie was no longer beside him and turned around.

A bedraggled homeless woman, perhaps not much older than themselves but the cruelties of life falsely made her skin appear crinkled and her hands warped, schlumped on the ground, fingers barely holding a torn cardboard sign reading ‘ _ Anything Helps. God Bless’  _ and staring off at nothingness. 

Richie crouched beside her, wide back resting against the bricks. “Hey there.”

“Hey.” A grunt deeper than Eddie would’ve expected issued from her skinny frame.

Richie tilted his gaze at her curiously and, peering at his watch, Eddie shook his head and frowned. Unearthing his wallet, he flicked out a five and held it to the woman. “Come on, Richie. We’re going to lose our reservation.”

Extending her hand, the woman’s fingertip brushed Eddie’s for the briefest of seconds, and a wave of revulsion hit him as he wondered how long it had been since she washed as her emerald eyes met his own. “Thank you.”

_ Just ten more dollars. Just ten more. Ten more and I can get that whiskey. A rattling bottle of pills. Swallowing. A tiny, broken human curled up in a dirty alley. Let it come. Let the darkness close in. No more hunger. No more pain. Forgotten by the world and found so many hours later they can’t move her stiff, lifeless limbs… _

Blinking back to the scene before him, Eddie watched as the woman tucked the five into some recess or another, and the voice hissed.  _ Open your wallet again, Eddie. Give her ten more. Finish it. _

In response to his insistence, Richie gave him a hard look and sat cross-legged on the ground. “How’re you doing today?”

The woman shrugged. “Shitty.”

Sticking out his lower lip, Richie nodded, slowly rubbing his hands together. “Yup. Don’t blame you. But hey...at least you’re not this guy, right?” Glancing up at Eddie, a smirk played over Richie’s face.

“What?” The woman looked between them curiously.

“I mean…” Richie leaned in, pointing at Eddie. “Does he look like he has the world’s biggest stick up his ass or what?”

Something that almost, maybe, could’ve been a chuckle parted her lips as she considered Eddie. “Yeah. Yeah he does.”

“And he works in  _ insurance _ .” Richie rolled his eyes, giving her a friendly nudge. “I mean how fucking boring is that. Dude could’ve done anything with his life and he literally said ‘Hmm...let me sit behind a desk and be the most annoying person in everyone’s lives twice a year forever.”

The woman laughed. And as she did it looked as if her face had forgotten how, starting at her lips and radiating outward, the expression surprising even herself as she clapped a hand to Richie’s expansive shoulder. Once she quieted, Richie leaned in, voice gentle. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Mary.” Smiling, she nodded, unable to look away from Richie’s soulful blue eyes.

“Hey Mary.” Richie grinned. Softening his tone further, he tilted his head. “You have somewhere to stay tonight?”

Mary did allow her eyes to fall then. “No…” 

Nodding, Richie patted her fingers. “Alright.” Standing, he extended a hand. “Come on.” 

Bobbing her head, Mary hitched her bag up on her shoulder, cramming her sign inside, and Richie began leading her back the way they came.

“Richie…” Eddie called out, holding up his hands in exasperation. “What about Momofuku?” Richie peered at him over his shoulder and motioned for Eddie to follow. Jogging to catch up, Eddie shook his head. “Where are we going?”

“Just come on.”

Linked to Mary, Richie strolled for a couple of blocks. 7:45 came and went, and Eddie assumed, so did their table. As frustrated as he was by Richie’s behavior as he waited at a crosswalk, the peculiar thing was Mary. Eyes glued to Richie, her feet moved independently of herself, trusting him to take her wherever they might be going. 

Finally they came to a stop before The Standard Hotel, Richie and Mary walking inside. The front desk employee greeted them warmly and Richie fished his wallet out of his back pocket, plunking down a card and getting the room keys in return. Eddie couldn’t comprehend what Richie was doing as he guided Mary upstairs, opening the door for her and entering the room. 

“Okay, Mary?” Lowering himself, Richie held her shoulders and Mary seemed to come out of her reverie a bit. “I’m gonna give you three days here, alright? You can order room service if you want, but try to keep the porno to a minimum. I’m not made of money.” Richie ruffled her hair and she smiled. “Oh.” Retrieving his wallet again, Richie held out a few twenties. “Here. If you need groceries or whatever.” Blue eyes growing icy, Richie’s tone sank. “And I want you to use this carefully.” Swallowing, Mary wrapped her fingers around the bills and nodded heavily. “And this…” Richie peeled a card from his wallet. “Is the number of my buddy Michael. Now, I know social services isn’t...well I know they can fucking suck sometimes, but he’s solid, so if you tell him what you’re dealing with, I swear he’ll listen and help you out. So I want you to give him a call, okay?”

Taking the card, Mary stared at it. “Why…” Glancing up at Richie, her eyes shifted to Eddie, then back to him. “Why are you doing this?” The three of them were quiet for a moment, and then Mary’s mouth fell, a tension rising around her eyes. “Oh...oh okay…” Hands going to her collar, Mary turned her face away, gritting her teeth, and she began unbuttoning her shirt.

“Whoa, whoa…” Richie stepped forward and held out his palms. “Mary, no...no I don’t want…” Giggling despite the seriousness of the situation, Richie shook his head. “Mary, I’m so gay it’s not even funny.”

A tiny smile appeared on her face and Mary lowered her arms. “Well...why then?”

Richie shrugged. “Because you need it.”

The last semblance of strength holding Mary up left her then and she collapsed against Richie’s firm chest, hands clutching his love handles as she sobbed into his t-shirt. Thrown, Richie rubbed her back silently, hoping it offered some measure of comfort to this woman whose tortures he couldn't begin to comprehend.

Eddie looked on, trying to process what he was seeing as Mary’s tears eventually dried and, wavering in her exhaustion, she stood back from Richie. They made their goodbyes, but before the door closed behind them, Mary called out. “Hey…” Rummaging in her purse, she held out a bottle of pills to Richie with a trembling hand, unable to look into his face. “Would you...could you take these away from me? I don’t…” Biting her lip, Mary’s eyes threatened to overflow again. “I don’t trust myself with them.”

Nodding gravely, Richie accepted the bottle and put it in his pocket. “Take care of yourself, Mary.”

“I’ll...I’ll try. Thank you.”

Door shutting, Richie shoved his hands in his pockets and Eddie walked beside him, both of them unspeaking. “Sorry…” Richie muttered once they exited the hotel. “For ruining dinner and all. I just…” Shaking his head, Richie gave a sad half smile. “I couldn’t leave her there.”

Eddie was having difficulty formulating his thoughts as they stood on the sidewalk. “That’s...it’s fine. Where do you want to eat?”

“Want to just go to McDonald’s?” Richie gestured down the street. Not his usual fare, Eddie was famished at that point and decided it was worth it as they ordered their food and sat down.

Watching Richie shovel half a burger into his gaping mouth and munching contentedly, Eddie grinned as he picked at what passed for a salad on their menu. “Hey Richie, can I ask…” He took a sip of his water. “How did you know? About Mary, I mean.”

Richie’s prominent dark eyebrows knit together behind his glasses. “How did I know what?”

“That she needed help.”

Giving him a strange look, Richie dipped a fry in ketchup. “Uh...she was a homeless lady on the street, Eddie. Of course she needed help.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part but…” Leaning in, Eddie tilted his head. “Why her, Richie?” Eddie pointed out the window. “There was another guy I saw while you were talking to her. Maybe half a block down. Younger dude. Also homeless. Why not him?”

“Oh that’s Emile.” Waving a dismissive hand, Richie chomped down on his second burger and nodded. “He’s cool. Sometimes I’ll buy him a sandwich and we’ll chat. He works the piers though…” Richie shook his head and his nose flared. “Makes me nervous for him. But he’s fine for…” Freezing, Richie blinked, adjusting his hold on his sandwich and clearing his throat, not looking up at Eddie. “Mary...she just seemed to be having a hard day to me, I guess.”

Suspicious, but deciding not to press the issue, Eddie bobbed his head. They finished their meals and Richie chivalrously took their trays to the trash. “So…” Eddie stood and shrugged into his jacket. “You want to come back to my place?”

“Yeah?” A crooked, goofy grin grew on Richie’s face. “Sure. I’d like that.”

Entering Eddie’s pristine apartment, Richie slipped off his shoes and allowed his fingers to trickle over Eddie’s short brunette locks. Eddie turned, taking Richie by the front of his blue button up shirt and leading him back to the bedroom. Taking his face in both hands once they entered, Richie backed Eddie up until his knees hit the mattress and they crawled back, Richie’s large frame caging him as he settled down on top with a sigh of contentment. Hands sneaking up Richie’s broad back, Eddie ground into him through his slacks, sensing Richie stiffening through his jeans as he removed his glasses and set them on the bedside stand, returning to scrape his stubbled chin over Eddie’s as he laced their lips together.

Resting back on his heels, Richie hurriedly undid his shirt, allowing the material to flutter to the floor and Eddie rose to remove his jacket, Richie’s fingers flying down his button up as he loosened his tie. Richie stood and dropped his jeans and boxers before hooking his hands underneath Eddie’s and peeling them away. 

Naked and breath shallow with anticipation, Richie kneaded Eddie’s hip as he rested his weight atop him, tongue dancing in his mouth. Pulling away, his fingers flowed down Eddie’s chest. “Do you want me to fuck you, Eddie?” Voice soft, Richie’s sapphire eyes studied his face.

Eddie didn’t consider himself a bottom. He tried it a handful of times in college to see what it was like, and though he didn’t find it unpleasant, the power, the control, of being on top appealed to him far more. But as Richie’s chiseled features stared back at him, his soft yet strong body rising and falling against his own, Eddie swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Craning his neck, Eddie rifled in his bedside drawer while Richie’s lips brushed over his collarbone, returning with a condom and a tube of lube. Richie accepted them, nodding. “Alright.” Caressing Eddie’s cheek, Richie’s lips touched the spot below his ear, dotting their way to his lips, holding firm for a moment with a soft, audible exhale. Hands traversing their way down Eddie’s muscular frame, Richie’s mouth followed, nibbling at his nipple, biting his hip, fingers ghosting over his cock before his tongue flicked out to taste the droplet at his slit, parking between his thighs. “You want some fingers first?”

“Yeah…” Breath ragged, Eddie stroked the dark hair of Richie’s forearm before he squeezed the sticky liquid over his hand, warming it before beginning to circle Eddie’s tight muscle.

Planting a wet kiss to Eddie’s inner thigh, Richie’s voice was muffled. “How many?”

“Two.” 

Richie slid inside, smiling at the sight of Eddie’s body absorbing knuckle after knuckle and biting his lip as he pushed forward, spinning for a moment, then scissoring them apart before curling upward to find the delicious nub that would make Eddie’s muscles leap. 

Gasping, Eddie’s spine curved and he rolled his hips into Richie’s touch. “Mmm…” Richie’s lips swiped just shy of his balls. “You like that Eddie? Hmm? You like when I play with your tight little ass?”

Eddie supposed he shouldn’t be surprised Richie was into dirty talk, considering his comedy act. What was surprising, however, was his voice. At least an octave deeper, a smoky, seductive purr grumbled from Richie and had he not seen it for himself, Eddie wouldn’t have believed it was coming from the same man.

“Yeah…” Eddie breathed. “That feels good.”

Richie thrust his arm forward, at the same time leaning down to kiss the head of his cock, tip of his tongue barely extended. “You want me to suck you, too, Eddie? Hmm? Take that big cock in my mouth while I fuck you with my fingers?” Licking a wide, flat swath from the balls to his throbbing head, Richie hummed. “Would you like that?”

“ _ Oh god, Richie! Yes! Please! Fuck!” _

Mischievous chuckle echoing from his built chest, Richie’s dazzling eyes locked in as he dove onto Eddie’s cock, hand pulsing inside of him as he slurped. 

“Richie! Richie,  _ fuck….that’s so goddamn good! _ ” Eddie’s body couldn’t decide whether to fuck itself down onto Richie’s fingers or up into his hot mouth, resulting in ceaseless writhing as he grabbed a handful of his bouncing dark tendrils and moaned. 

Richie hastened his speed and Eddie sensed his balls tightening, urgently tapping Richie’s shoulder. “Stop... _ Stop!” _

Rising with a comical pop, Richie licked his swollen lips, even pinker than usual. “You okay, Eds?”

Not sure he loved the shortened moniker, Eddie was too wound up to call him on it. “Yeah, yeah...just....Come fuck me.”

Smiling, Richie nodded exuberantly. “You got it.”

Richie rolled the condom down, smearing more lube over himself and across Eddie’s hole before kneeling between his legs. “How do you like it, Eddie?” Fingertips trickling over Eddie’s abs, Richie tilted his head. “Do you like to get fucked hard? Hmm? You want me to pound your ass with my big cock until you can’t sit behind that desk at work tomorrow?”

Words sharp, Richie’s voice was remarkably delicate, as if he were telling Eddie a bedtime story, lulling him, consoling him, even. “Yeah.” Eddie raised a leg, placing it over Richie’s shoulder in challenge. “Fuck me hard, Rich.”

Face serious, almost solemn, Richie nodded, aligning his cock with Eddie’s entrance. Stormy blue eyes flooding his vision, Richie surged forward and Eddie gasped as his thick cock stretched him open. “You okay?” Richie paused.

“Yeah.” Swallowing, Eddie grabbed for him. “Keep going.” 

Sheathing himself, Richie groaned, eyes shutting and mouth opening. “Oh fuck, Eddie, you feel so good…”

At the zenith of his penetration, a torrent of images flickered in Eddie’s mind, like thumbing through a photo album.

_ Richie. Face clean and hands trembling, poised over a skinny blonde man as young as himself, kisses sweet and whispers of love. _

_ Richie. Drunk and giggling. Falling into a dorm bunk with an exceptionally hairy fellow calling him by the wrong name and pounding him into oblivion. _

_ Richie. Smiling above a shorter man with sandy brown hair, laughing a little as they found their rhythm, grins fading, replaced by gasping mouths and tearing hands, ecstasy claiming their sweating forms. _

_ Richie. Caressing the cheek of the same shorter man, green eyes staring adoringly as they pulsed, all the time in the world to explore each other’s bodies and hearts. _

Inhaling back to the present, it was a moment before Eddie recognized the voice screaming was his own, that Richie’s cock hammering him into the mattress had him on the edge of the precipice, that his nails were carving into his pallid flesh as Richie’s wrist flashed over his cock. 

“ _ Fuck! Fuck, Richie, I’m gonna cum! Fuck! FUCK! _ ” Ankles crossed behind Richie’s head, Eddie’s face crumpled as cum sprayed over his chest and again, the illuminating, soundless light flashed, drowning out all concerns, all worries, both inside and outside of Eddie as he constricted around Richie’s pummeling cock and quaked. 

Richie lowered Eddie’s legs, pressing their foreheads together, cradling his face in both hands. Richie clapped into him recklessly, whimpering as he attempted to keep kissing Eddie’s open mouth. “ _ Oh Eddie! Oh fuck...yes. You feel so good! Yes! Fuck!” _

Erratically humping, Richie buried his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, arms slithering under his back to clutch him near. “ _ Eddie...Eddie...Eddie…”  _ Richie whined helplessly, toes scraping at the sheets as he barreled forward, left eye twitching and leg shaking. “ _ Eddie!”  _ Straining above him, Richie’s mouth gaped and a noise like a whine being kicked in the stomach broke from inside of him before his hips jerked a final time and he deflated.

Gulping air and skin damp, Richie ran a lazy hand over Eddie’s face, nodding and meaning to say something, but no words came in his weariness. Eddie drew invisible patterns over Richie’s back, kissing his forehead before picking away the damp strands of hair stuck to his skin until Richie’s cobalt eyes fluttered open and he smiled at him.

Claiming Eddie’s lips once more, a languorous kiss passed between them before, with a pat of Eddie’s cheek, Richie extricated himself and left to throw away the condom before quite literally jumping back in bed, disturbing Eddie and nearly launching him off the edge. 

“Hey, you big goof!” Eddie smacked his chest playfully.

“Aw.” Snuggling up under the covers, Richie’s powerful arms dragged him in, squid-like, and though Eddie resisted at first he assented to tucking himself into the long curve of Richie’s body, tossing a leg over him and nestling against his chest.

Breath syncing, Richie flicked off the light, shuffling down a little, and Eddie felt him plant a kiss to his hair. It was decidedly foreign to him, drifting off under someone else, or even spending a second night in bed with the same person, for that matter. But as sleep snuck under the sheets beside him, Eddie had to admit, being held by Richie, there was an indefinable comfort, a succor that allowed him to close his eyes against the darkness in peace.


	3. 3

Waking to an empty bed and a delicious smell wafting from the direction of the kitchen, Richie put on his glasses and padded down the hall, scratching his little belly and yawning.

“Good morning.” Pressing a kiss to Eddie’s temple, he scrunched his fingers through his short, dark hair. “What are you making?”

“Quiche.” Eddie replied simply. “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

Richie shrugged his broad shoulders. “Just nuts.” He pinched Eddie’s ass and smirked. “Ironically.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie went to the fridge to grab the orange juice and paused. “Oh shit.” Backing up, he swallowed.

“What?” Richie furrowed his brow, looking at Eddie’s frightened expression as he lifted a pointing finger toward the ceiling.

“Spider.” Maybe it was silly. Maybe it made him a wimp, but Eddie _hated_ bugs. Hated any multi-legged intruder in his home. Creeping, crawling, they made him unreasonably uncomfortable and he wanted nothing more than for it to be destroyed. 

“Oh.” Smiling, Richie patted him on the shoulder. “Hang on. I got it.” Opening the cupboard Richie extracted a glass, extending his long body, Richie got up on one toe and clipped the spider’s web with his fingers to drop it into the cup.

Teeth clenched, Eddie looked on indignantly as Richie covered the rim with a wide palm. “Just...just kill it.”

Richie shook his head as he went to the sliding glass doors, stepping outside and shaking the spider onto the balcony before returning to put the glass in the dishwasher, Eddie making a mental note to throw it away once he left. “There. All gone.” Grinning, Richie caressed Eddie’s cheek before flopping down on one of the stools.

Setting orange juice in front of him, Eddie took in Richie’s shapely legs before he bent over to remove the quiche from the oven, then looked from Richie and back to the ceiling. “So is your whole family tall then?”

“You know…” Richie blinked after he swallowed half a glass. “No, actually. My mom is super tall. We’re almost eye to eye.”

“Holy shit, really?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

Nodding, Richie watched him cut a slice of the quiche. “Yeah. My dad always says he got lucky. Found a supermodel in a small town who didn’t know she was beautiful.” Richie grinned. “But my dad…” Holding out his palm, Richie lowered it to the ground. “Little dude. Like 5’7” I think. Everyone on his side is. But,” Lifting a vast shoulder, Richie screwed up his mouth. “My mom’s adopted and her parents died before I was born, so I just assume everyone on her side must’ve been really tall.”

“Hmm.” Sticking out his lower lip, Eddie nodded and served up breakfast.

“How about you?” Richie asked, folding his mouth around a massive bite. “What are your parents like?”

Stilling, Eddie blinked. “Well...my mom...she died a couple of years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Richie frowned, reaching out to squeeze Eddie’s arm.

“Thanks.” Giving a perfunctory nod, Eddie carved off a forkful. “And I never met my dad. He left before I was born.”

Slowly bobbing his head, Richie saw a shadow pass over Eddie’s handsome features and figured it was best not to press him. They ate in amiable silence, Richie insisting on doing the clean up before his large hands settled on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Mmm...thank you.” Swooping down, his pink lips brushed Eddie’s neck. “That was great.”

“You’re welcome.” Smiling, Eddie found himself covering Richie’s fingers with his own, turning into his face, unsure why this man’s touch was so intoxicating. “You want to go to my room?”

“Mmhmm…” Richie purred. Peeling off their shirts as they made their way down the hall, Eddie captured Richie’s mouth before they collapsed back onto the bed, hand sneaking into his boxers to delicately trace a thumb over the head of his cock until he stiffened beneath his fingers and hummed against his lips.

Eddie broke their kiss, brushing back Richie’s curls and studying his face. “I want to fuck you.”

Breath hitching, Richie nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Retrieving the lube and a condom from the bedside stand, Eddie turned to Richie, hand creeping down to knead his ass. “I want to taste you first.”

“Yeah?” Richie raised an eyebrow.

Nodding, Eddie gave him a pinch. “Roll over.” Richie removed his glasses and set them on the bedside stand, curling a pillow under his arms as Eddie knelt behind him. Parting Richie’s small cheeks, Eddie dug forward, tongue passing over his hole. The tight circle of Richie’s muscle cinched reflexively at first, but eventually he relaxed, Eddie lapping at him for a moment before his tongue bore inside, twirling with a deep hum of satisfaction.

“Oh Eddie... _yes…_ ” Richie hissed in delight, spreading his thick thighs further and driving himself back into Eddie’s eager face. Fisting his hands in the pillow, Richie allowed his eyes to close, soft moans issuing from his throat as Eddie devoured him.

Eddie thrusting his tongue as deep as he could manage, a strange sensation crawled over Richie’s skin. Somehow his body was telling him to both rock back into Eddie’s ministrations and at the same time, not allow this intruder passage, as if a friend came to the door who he hadn’t seen for ages and though Richie adored them, he suspected their intentions were not wholly upright.

But his libido won out, Richie arching his back with a fluttering whimper. “ _Eddie! Yes! Just like that!”_

Eddie’s hand rose high in the air, cracking it over Richie’s tiny cheek and reveling in the surprisingly high pitched squeal it elicited before he extracted himself. “You want me to fuck you now?”

“ _Yes, Eddie! Yes! Please!”_ Richie heard himself beg, thought maybe it was undignified, but as he ground his leaking cock into the sheets he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Smacking Richie’s ass again, Eddie grinned. “Flip over.” Rolling the condom down, Eddie smeared the sticky liquid over his cock and Richie before aligning himself with his entrance. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” Richie nodded, smiling and grasping Eddie’s firm forearm. “Fuck me.”

Eddie slid inside and Richie’s sharp jaw dropped, eyes flickering for a moment. As Eddie’s face grew close and his cock burrowed inside of him, there was a second where he seemed to distort, to morph. 

The light in the room was different, darker. Eddie hovered before him, eyes aflame, nose flared and mouth a snarl. Richie’s body felt...foreign. Small. Eddie hammered recklessly and when he spoke, it was nothing short of a growl, “ _Yeah, take my cock! Take it!”_

Blinking, suddenly the room was bathed once again in the bright shafts of the morning and Richie looked into Eddie’s face. “What...what did you say?”

Eddie knit his brow curiously. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” Swallowing, Richie timidly draped his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and adjusted himself. “Never mind.” Eddie linked their lips, hand encircling Richie’s cock as he began swiveling inside of him. As with most aspects of his life, Eddie prided himself on his technique, angling his hips with precision to hit Richie’s prostate with each upstroke and pumping his cock in time with their joined movements, squeezing the head with a twist.

“Oh fuck... _Eddie! Yes! Don’t stop!”_ Richie planted his heels in the mattress and began slamming himself onto Eddie’s penetrating cock, Eddie rattling unholy sounds from the depths of his being as the bed shook beneath them.

“Mmm...yeah, you like the way I fuck you?” Eddie came up on one knee and began vigorously pounding. “Am I going to make you cum on my cock, Richie?”

“ _Yeah!”_ A helpless whimper parting his pink lips, Richie nodded enthusiastically. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum so hard, Eds. _Don’t stop! Please!_ ”

“Never.” Eddie rammed Richie mercilessly, rejoicing in the wailing whines and determined to make sure every neighbor knew his name. “I won’t stop for a second. I’ll fuck you _So. Damn. Hard.”_ Punctuating each word with a pummeling thrust, Richie’s body began to quiver beneath him and his left eye twitched uncontrollably.

“ _Oh Eddie! Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck!”_ Hands scrabbling over Eddie’s muscular arms, Richie panted and cried out his name before he curled forward with eyes clenched and breath held. Curly head springing back, warm cum spouted over Eddie’s hand, dotting Richie’s dark chest hair as he constricted around Eddie with a sharp yelp.

“Oh _fuck_ , Richie…” Eddie hauled his long legs to his shoulders and began barreling inside of him with abandon, chest heaving and eyes shut. “ _Fuck...fuck, I’m gonna cum!_ ” Hips jumping, Eddie let out an earth shattering groan, swaying to and fro as his fingers dug into Richie’s sculpted calves and he shuddered.

Pressing an uncoordinated kiss to Richie’s leg, Eddie opened his eyes and took him in. Dewy dark hair spread over the white pillow, pallid flesh blotchy with a red flush, cobalt eyes heavy with lust, in that moment Richie’s beauty was nothing short of ethereal and Eddie couldn’t resist lowering his legs and claiming those pink lips for his own.

The kiss they shared was languorous, but passionate, tongues weaving and hands exploring damp skin as Richie’s aftershocks continued to pulse around Eddie’s sensitive cock. Pulling away, the expression on Richie’s face, that earnest thoughtfulness as he carded his fingers through his hair, unsettled Eddie’s stomach, but not nearly as much as the idea that he wanted to do whatever he could to make Richie’s features form it again and again.

Unraveling themselves, Richie snuggled into Eddie, curling up and making himself small in his arms. They drifted off and when they woke the hour was unclear. Slapping a hand over his phone, Richie peeked blearily at the screen. 

“Ah shit, I have a show later tonight.” Yawning, he stretched out and his leg shook. “I should probably go home. I need to do laundry or I’ll be up on stage going commando.”

Eddie chuckled. “Good idea. I don’t want anyone in the audience spotting that big dick.” Reaching over to pat Richie’s ass, he smiled. 

“Oh? And why is that?” Smirking, Richie reached back to cram his glasses on his face before combing back Eddie’s hair.

Eddie shrugged. “Guess I wouldn’t like it if someone else tried to pick you up, maybe.”

Smiling, Richie bobbed his head. “Alright then. I’ll be sure to wash my underwear.” Fusing their mouths together, Richie parted with a grin, cupping Eddie’s cheek before standing to gather his clothes from the floor. Eddie walked him to the door, embracing Richie and giving him a quick peck, unable to resist threading his fingers through his dark curls one last time before they made their goodbyes.

***

As Richie switched his first load to the dryer, he sifted over the memories of his time with Eddie. When he asked him how he knew Mary needed help, Richie didn’t quite know how to answer. If he was honest, he still didn’t understand how he knew. But whenever he passed by someone struggling he would get this...glimmer. Richie would find himself depressed, scared, angry, as if from nowhere. It was a vague sense, something on the edge of his consciousness. Like when a shadow passes by the corner of your eye and you think you spotted someone, or a cat maybe, but then you turn around and there’s nothing to be found.

But instead, everytime Richie discovered something solid. Someone in the throes of utmost pain. And he was compelled to help. To crack a joke, make them smile, do what he could to bring them some semblance of comfort, of peace.

Richie distinctly remembered when it began. Second grade recess and the kickball went way out to left field. Jogging, Richie picked it up and suddenly his face grew hot, his stomach tightened. Hands clammy, Richie dropped the ball, felt slightly nauseous and bent over, taking a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Hannah Martingale peered up at him from a spot on the grass, her skirt stained and eyes red.

“I...I don’t know. I just felt weird all of a sudden.” Pushing up his coke bottle glasses, Richie narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you okay?”

Hannah lifted a shoulder, tearing at the grass. Pausing to kick the ball back to the group, Richie plopped down next to her. “What’s up?”

“Stacy…” Tipping up her chin toward a knot of girls giggling and chatting not far off, Hannah wiped a hand across her cheek, succeeding in smearing it with dirt. “She...she made fun of me.”

“Oh.” Voice soft, Richie bobbed his head. Sticking out his lip, he glanced to Stacy, then to Hannah’s tear streaked face. “Well, don’t worry about her. She’s just a stuck up bitch.”

Mouth dropping open, Hannah quickly covered it with her hand and began to giggle. “Richie! You can’t say that word!”

Richie leaned in conspiratorially. “ _Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!”_

Cackling, Hannah gripped her sides and rolled over in the grass, cruel taunts at least momentarily forgotten.

Initially when the wave hit him near Hannah, Richie worried he might be getting sick again. It was only his second day back at school, after all. Struck down with pneumonia, Richie spent his nights sweating through the sheets, his parents frantic as they called the doctor to the house, nothing able to break his fever as Richie slipped into delirium.

Richie thought about that night often. It couldn’t have happened. Had to be a fever dream. But it seemed so...real.

In a rare moment of consciousness, Richie heard raised voices echoing from the living room.

“You know I can’t do that, Went, you _know_ it!”

“So what, Maggie? You’re just going to let him die?”

“Went...we agreed. When I came here, you said—”

“He’s our _son,_ Maggie! Don’t you give a shit about him at all?”

When his mom entered his room, Richie had long since lost his voice from endless coughing and so the gasp that escaped his mouth was silent. Mom was glowing. Glowing. A soft, white light radiating from her as she knelt next to his bed and gently placed one hand to his forehead, the other below his shirt to rest over his heart.

Warmth encapsulated him as though Richie were dunked into the tub. Almost too hot for a minute as everything became white. Silent. The room came back in pieces. His bookshelf. The bedspread. And mom. Mom. Looking regular and smiling down at him as she rumpled his hair.

“You rest now, Richie.” Kissing his forehead, she slipped silently from his room. Richie did, and his dreams seemed to last years, decades; elaborate drawn out stories that slipped from him when the morning hit his eyes and to this day he ached to remember, because they spoke to his heart of things unknown and solace promised. 

Walking into breakfast the next day, lungs clear and hungry for the first time in over a week, Richie’s dad patted his shoulder. “See? Just needed a good night’s sleep is all.”

Richie stood in front of the dryer, wet shirt dripping onto the floor, unaware of how long he’d been lost in his reverie. As he turned the machine on, Richie realized it was years since he returned to that memory. He never asked his mother about that night, certain she would say he was just dreaming. And likely he was. But the sight of his mother illuminated consoled Richie, and so, he remained silent, preferring to treasure the memory for himself.

Often these feelings Richie would get were overwhelming. Particularly in crowds. When he first started doing stand up, it was torture. A roomful of people all seeking to lose themselves in laughter, carrying a mountain’s worth of misery on their shoulders as they stared up at him expectantly, silent pleas for help descending on him like a fog as he fought to tell his jokes and get off the stage.

For a while Richie drowned the sensation in liquor. He found it numbed things enough that he at least wasn’t able to discern between his own unhappiness and that of others, and it allowed him to resist the compulsion to help every injured soul he came across.

But when Richie vomited blood for the first time, he had to admit it wasn’t a workable solution. Getting into a 12 step program, Richie secretly set about trying to focus whatever this ability was inside of him. And that’s when he met Gabe.

Encountering one another at a meeting, Gabe was a freelance writer who laughed at even his stupidest jokes and whose touch left Richie gasping. They fell for one another hard and fast, one year rule be damned, lying to their sponsors about their single status until the benchmark passed as Gabe accompanied him on the road.

When Richie tried to explain the phenomenon he experienced to Gabe, he told him he was just an exceptionally empathetic person, that he felt things more deeply than most people and it wasn’t anything to worry about. Richie thought he must not have explained himself properly, but was hesitant to try again as he continued to try and shape the skill.

As it turned out, having the same person nearby all the time proved helpful. Familiarizing himself with Gabe’s moods, his trials, Richie was able to form a sort of internal spigot, allowing only the amount in he could handle when he could handle it, unless his own emotions were roiling.

This made their arguments particularly intense, but the making up was even moreso, and after a year and a half Richie was hopelessly in love. In the weeks leading up to the accident, he even timidly broached the subject with Gabe one night, speaking into the darkness, awash in the afterglow of their united bodies: _So...what do you think about...like...marriage and stuff?_

Richie was ashamed of going back to the bourbon since Gabe’s death. Knew Gabe would be disappointed. That it’s not what he would’ve wanted for him. Aside from that first month, Richie managed to pull back. Was able to keep it to a couple of drinks here and there, at most getting trashed only once a week when the night got too quiet, too still, and he was reminded forcibly of the emptiness in his bed, his life, his heart. 

And now, with Eddie, Richie wasn’t sure what to do. Eddie wasn’t what one would call ‘boyfriend material.’ But maybe, Richie thought, that’s not what he needed right now, anyway. Maybe a sexy distraction was good enough. Maybe someone to hold him and take his mind away from the last year of horrors would suffice. Maybe all he needed was not to be alone.

***

For some reason, Eddie’s brief discussion with Richie about their families snagged a corner of his brain, unraveling as he walked around the empty apartment. His mother hardly mentioned his father, other than to say that he was a bad man and they were better off without him. Admitting defeat, Eddie pulled on jeans and a shirt, snatched up his keys, and went down to the storage unit. 

When his mother died two years before, Eddie approached the task as he did most things, businesslike, practical. Eddie made the final payments on her house that his mother wouldn’t allow when she was living, sold it as quickly as possible, hired a company to box up her possessions, and had them transported nearby, with a hazy intention of going through them one day.

Eddie’s relationship with his mother was...complicated. At school the term ‘mama’s boy’ was tossed about more than once. Growing up, Sonia kept the apron strings short, Eddie closeby at all times. But it wasn’t as if she were nurturing Eddie to be her best friend. No. Quite the opposite. As Eddie grew older, he suspected his mother didn’t even like him. When her eyes fell upon him, Sonia’s lip would curl as though she smelled something rotten and often when she held him, there was a stiffness to her touch.

From a young age, Eddie was taken to the doctor frequently. Sonia would describe his symptoms, Eddie never correcting her when they weren’t ones he actually experienced, and he would take the pills he was given without question, soon developing a fastidious, obsessive nature to keep himself clean, healthy. Sonia told him to stay away from other children. That people carried disease. That Eddie was fragile and would get sick.

It wasn’t until his first year of college, when Eddie brought his empty bottle into the drug store of the new town for a refill, that the pharmacist laughed. “Uhh...guessing you don’t need me to exactly ‘rush’ with these ones, huh, buddy?”

“What?” Eddie furrowed his brow.

The pharmacist tossed him back the bottle. “They’re sugar pills, man. Placebos. They don’t do anything.”

Horrified, Eddie slogged back to his dorm room and sat on his bed in silence. After thinking for a long time, over all the years of appointments, of his mother’s underhanded comments, of how she yanked him away whenever he even started to develop a friendship, Eddie came to a conclusion. Sonia didn’t get the pills to protect Eddie from the world, she got them to protect the world from Eddie. 

Sliding open the door, Eddie found it packed to the gills and sighed heavily. Thankfully he had the forethought to have the furniture donated, at least, so there was nothing but boxes to sort through. Eddie soon found each one was carefully labeled, and paused to look up the company on his phone, giving a quick five star review, albeit belatedly, for their attention to detail before he dove back in. 

After a couple of hours, Eddie discovered a corner of boxes labeled: _Sonia Kaspbrak: Books/Journals/Paperwork_ and began to rummage. The first journal he found, flower-print cover and sporting a sticker from a band Eddie never heard of, held details of his mother’s pre-teen years, and after a couple of pages Eddie cringed with embarrassment, flipping to the last one and seeing it far predated his conception. Digging again, Eddie spotted one with a cracked black leather cover. First date in 1976, he balanced himself on a neighboring box and began to read. It wasn’t until halfway through that Eddie found the passage he desired.

_Something happened at Alice’s party last night. I thought I was being smart. I only had two drinks. I don’t know. But I must’ve passed out or something because when I came to there was a man on top of me. He was so big. I tried to fight and scream. I tried to get away. I couldn’t. His eyes were black. He was so angry. I don’t know what I did wrong. What did I do to deserve this? Should I tell mom? Alice? I don’t know. I’m really scared. He disappeared after. I must’ve blacked out again because he really...disappeared. He was on top of me and then just gone. And the things he said while it was happening. I don’t think I can write them down. They didn’t make a lot of sense. Maybe he drugged me. I don’t know. I’m so scared. Why did this happen to me? Why do I feel so sick? I took three showers and I still feel so dirty..._

Eddie stared down at his mother's shaky handwriting, at the words obviously smudged from tears, teeth gritting and hands shaking as he looked at the date. _Nine months before my birthday…_ Flipping ahead, he saw Sonia’s panicked entries about missing her period, about how she was going to tell her parents, making up a lie that she slept with a man who was passing through town.

Obviously Eddie understood why his mother never told him. Every child wants to believe they’re the product of love, of a joyous union between two happy parents. Not...this. As Eddie replaced the journal, locking the unit behind him and returning to his car, he no longer wondered why his mother despised him.

  
  



	4. 4

Tomato slice slopping out with the sandwich halfway to his wide mouth, Richie frowned and chomped down anyway, sharp jaw rolling. Dropping his meal on the plate, Richie smeared crummy fingers over his bare belly and picked up his phone. Tapping the side, Richie’s dark brows furrowed for a moment before he began composing a text to Eddie.

Richie:  _ Hey, how’s it going?  _

After their previous encounter Richie figured initiating communication this time would be a safe enough bet, and when a response vibrated on his thick, boxer-clad thigh before he could finish a second bite, he grinned.

Eddie:  _ Well, and yourself? _

Richie:  _ Not bad. So, do you want to get together tonight? I’m trying out some new material at Caroline’s, but I won’t make you sit through that. Should be done around 11 maybe if you’re free. _

Eddie:  _ I’d like to come see you perform. What time do you go on? _

Richie blinked in surprise, pink lips crooked with glee as his thumbs flew over the keyboard.

Richie:  _ 10ish. If you want to text me when you’re there, I’ll meet you outside so you don’t have to pay the cover.  _

Eddie agreed, and after parking his black SUV, he alerted Richie, the tall comedian soon bounding out from the club entrance through a gaggle of bystanding smokers. “Hey Eds.” Uneven smile boundless, Richie’s sapphire eyes glittered behind his glasses with a manic excitement as he clapped Eddie on the shoulder, gesturing back to the door. “Thanks for coming. Let’s go. I’ll show you around.”

Struggling to keep up with Richie’s long-legged, harried strides, Eddie followed as the doorman waved them through, Richie offering a nod of thanks. Eddie took the opportunity to drink in the sight of Richie’s blazer screeching across the plains of his shoulders as they entered the dimness of the club, cacophonous laughter dousing his ears as Richie motioned for Eddie to join him at the bar.

“Thanks for coming, Eds.” Eddie didn’t feel the need to tell Richie he already said that as he took in his fingers rattling on the countertop, his weight shifting rapidly from foot to foot, the constant tick in his slightly smaller left eye. “You want a drink? It’s free. No charge. Whatever you want.”

Richie spoke far too quickly. Smile far too wide. Tilting his head curiously, Eddie's brown eyes narrowed. “Richie…” Looking over his shoulder to the current performer halfway through their set, Eddie turned back to Richie and arched a brow. “Do you have stage fright?”

A tittering chuckle overtook the entirety of Richie’s tall body before he adjusted his thick-framed glasses. “Oh...yeah.” Richie nodded as if the bolts in his neck needed tightening. “I guess it’s pretty stupid, right? After 20 years, but…” Glancing over his shoulder to the stage, Richie swallowed hard. “I just get...nervous.” Richie flapped his large hands before his chest, bouncing a little and doing what he could not to allow his cobalt eyes to linger overlong on the glinting allure of the bourbon bottle in his periphery.

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” In the shadowed club Eddie’s eyes flashed onyx, possessing a sternness in their reassurance. “Hell, I could never get up there and do what you do, Richie. I’m just surprised. I wouldn’t’ve guessed based on seeing you perform last time.”

As Richie rolled his eyes, a smidgen of tension fled his vast shoulders. “Yeah, that’s what everyone says.” 

Eddie watched as Richie transformed into a human flinch, his lengthy fingers fluttering incessantly as he did a tiny circuit in the bare space between tables. “Hey, Richie…” Lowering his voice, Eddie beckoned. The ping pong balls of Richie’s eyes refused to land on Eddie’s face as he leaned down to his whispering lips. “When do you go on?”

“Oh, um…” Richie shook out his wrist, only to immediately remember he never wore a watch, and retrieved his phone from his pocket. “About 20 minutes. Why?”

“You wanna go somewhere?” Eddie swiveled in, threading the lapel of Richie’s jacket through his fingertips and millimeters away from nuzzling into his stubbled cheek. “Let me suck you? Might help you calm down.”

Nostrils flaring, Richie’s grip closed pincer-like over Eddie’s forearm. “Yes. Fuck. Now. Please.” 

“Okay, let’s--whoa!” A huge fist snagged the front of Eddie’s crisp white shirt, dragging him unceremoniously through the club. Bumping into strangers without apology, Eddie swore breaking glass and someone shouting followed in their wake, but he couldn’t be sure as Richie burst through the men’s room door with a cursory look around before slamming him into the wall.

Richie shamelessly groped every inch of Eddie he could reach, half hard from Eddie’s proposition and their jaunt across the floor. Anxiety tended to make Richie horny. At this point it was a chicken or the egg situation. Back when Gabe accompanied him on tour, fooling around backstage and in green rooms became a regular occurrence to manage Richie’s pre-show jitters, Gabe graciously using his hands, his mouth, to help Richie go before the crowd with an ounce less fear in his system. 

And now Richie wasn’t sure if his increase in libido before a set could be attributed to the need for release, or because he simply became accustomed to getting off before going on, his dick Pavlovian in response to stress.

But as Eddie shoved him back, using Richie’s broad frame to block the door before unpopping the button on his jeans, Richie didn’t give a damn about the reason behind his stiff cock. All he wanted was Eddie’s soft, wet mouth around him as he sank to his knees and Richie laced his fingers into the short brunette tendrils of his hair.

“Oh fuck...Eddie... _ yes!”  _ Richie thickened over Eddie’s gliding tongue as he artfully bobbed, wrist flicking over his shaft. Curly head falling back, Richie’s sculpted jaw dangled as his hips rocked. “Eddie, um…” Licking his pink lips and nostrils wide, Richie petted Eddie’s scalp tenderly. “Can I...could I fuck your mouth? Maybe? Just…” Eyes screwing up, Richie shook his head. “I just...I need to fucking cum. Please.”

Eddie popped off with a nod. “Yeah, go for it. Come on.” Taking Richie’s considerable length back into his mouth, ten points of pressure surrounded Eddie’s skull as a deep, rumbling groan issued from Richie above, cock thrusting into the tight heat of Eddie’s throat.

“ _ Oh Eddie! Oh fuck! Yes! Suck me!”  _ Knees bent and pelvis pounding, Richie yanked Eddie’s head onto himself with a fury, moans echoing high and unusual off the bathroom tiles. “ _ Eddie! Eddie! Fuck! Your mouth! Yes! Fuck! Suck my cock! I love it!”  _

Richie smacked through Eddie’s slick lips with shocking velocity, ripping at his brown tresses and whimpering as though begging to be forgiven. Erection straining beneath his slacks, Eddie grabbed Richie’s little ass and held on, humming and jutting his tongue forward to avoid gagging as he tasted the forewarning of Richie’s end.

“ _ Fuck! Eddie! You’re gonna make me cum! I’m gonna cum in your throat! Fuck! Suck me! Yes! Fuck! Eddie! Swallow my cum! Fuck! Fuck!” _ Thick thighs shaking and schlumping over, Richie coiled his powerful arms around Eddie, frantically humping with labored breath. “ _ Eddie!”  _ A high whine huffed out of him as Richie’s mouth gaped and his left eye twitched. Hot, sweet cum flooded Eddie’s mouth as Richie clutched his forehead to his pillowy belly, his cock throbbing into Eddie’s eager mouth with ever-slowing rotations.

“Oh fuck...fuck...Eddie…” Standing on unstable legs, Richie loosened his grip and blinked himself back to reality as Eddie sat back on his heels. Eddie removed his pocket square and was halfway through wiping his eyes when Richie hauled him to his feet. “Alright…” Richie peeked at his phone, Eddie’s tie bunched in a big fist. “Eight minutes. You better be ready.”

“Oh, I mean, I’m hard, but Richie, you don’t have t--” But Richie unzipped Eddie’s pants, dropped, and gobbled his begging cock with such intensity the air evacuated Eddie’s lungs and every muscle in his body seized against the door. Tugging his balls, massaging his perineum, jerking him, and sucking on the tip with a voracity that was almost painful, when Eddie unraveled enough to choke out, “ _ Fucking CHRIST, Richie!” _ He looked down to see two blazing eyes of blue staring back, determined, a hair’s breadth away from wrathful as Richie’s wide mouth mercilessly hoovered.

Eddie thrashed against the wall, taking the reins of Richie’s curls. His pelvis tried to acclimate to Richie’s rhythm, but he struggled to keep up as Richie threw his neck forward, jamming Eddie’s cock into his mouth to the root as he viciously undulated the muscles of his throat.

“ _ Oh god! Fuck, Richie! Yes! So good! Don’t stop!”  _ Eddie breathed, heels skidding over the floor as he fought to stay upright.

A knock at the door startled them both and Richie gagged a little in his alarm. “Um...just a minute!” Eddie called out before glancing down at Richie in fear. If possible, Richie hastened his actions, slurpring over Eddie’s long cock with abandon before focusing his attention on the sensitive head.

A second knock. Dropping Eddie from his swollen pink lips and snarling, Richie pounded back in annoyance. “Give me a fucking second, okay!” Richie devoured him again and Eddie blinked down at him in surprise. An amiable, sweet man, Eddie never before saw the expression that crossed Richie’s face as he chided their intruder. In that moment, Richie’s chiseled features became positively...feral.

Glowering cobalt eyes and wide nostrils above a curling lip exposing his bared, rounded fangs. And Richie’s aroused, aggravated shout. Voice scratching and spit flying as drool dripped over his square chin. 

Needless to say, after he witnessed this side of Richie, it was all over for Eddie. Gritting his teeth to keep the truth of their tryst from whoever might be waiting on the other side of the door, a muffled grunt left Eddie as his hips stammered forward, warm cum painting the back of Richie’s throat as he stroked over his dark tendrils.

As before, Eddie tasted...wrong, somehow. As a nonsmoker who seemed fastidious about his diet, Richie couldn’t comprehend why. Chalking it up to perhaps a strange health supplement, Richie swallowed reluctantly, not wanting to offend. 

Richie rose, dusting off his knees and hurriedly splashing his face. “How do I look?” Turning to Eddie after smearing himself dry with a paper towel, Eddie fought to keep a straight face.

Lips fuschia and hair a chestnut rat’s nest haloing flushed skin, Richie dribbled all down the front of his black t-shirt, but Eddie supposed that last bit couldn’t be helped. “Here…” Eddie combed his fingers gently through Richie’s hair with a smile, a futile attempt to make the dark mass lay flat before straightening his glasses. “There you go. You look great.” Thumb lingering over Richie’s prominent cheekbone, they momentarily forgot about their location, the time restraint, the stranger waiting outside as Richie took Eddie’s waist and dipped down for a kiss. 

“Thank you.” Richie murmured when they parted, lost on the black sea of Eddie’s gaze. Hearing his own name over the speakers, Richie perked up. “Shit! I gotta get out there.”

Whipping open the door, a surly man pushed past them and Eddie squeezed Richie’s broad shoulder before he dashed away. “Break a leg.”

Unlike his previous experiences, when Richie hopped before the microphone, this time he didn’t have to wait for that first wave of laughter to crash over him to relax. Richie wasn’t sure why, exactly. Even when he and Gabe would fool around before shows, his anxiety would still take the stage alongside him. But tonight, as he chewed past his opener into the meat of his set, Richie felt...powerful. Perhaps even, dare he think, proud.

Awareness that Eddie watched from the audience proved both encouraging and intimidating. Richie knew Eddie didn’t possess the greatest sense of humor. Oddly, it was one of the things Richie found hilarious about the straight-laced analyst. The fact Eddie was so rigid, so uptight, provided endless amusement to Richie. But testing his new material before someone with Eddie’s stoicism daunted Richie, so when he realized he could pick out Eddie’s halting laugh from the throng, a warmth encased Richie which couldn’t be blamed on the stage lights.

Richie mentally noted which bits slayed, which might require tinkering as he presented the fresh offerings before those assembled. In the brief lull following a boom of glee, a thought formulated in Richie’s mind, he knew not from where. And, as was the case with so many things in his life, Richie spoke without thinking. This time, into a microphone. “So, how many of you folks are out tonight to escape your kids? Huh? Show of hands?” Richie shielded his eyes and looked over the crowd, nodding with a chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t fucking blame you. Damn, am I glad I got my fucking wires snipped.” Giggling to himself, Richie shook his head. “I bet if half of you were honest with yourselves, you’re kind of, maybe a  _ little…”  _ Stretching out his lower lip, Richie’s left eye partially shut as he leaned away from the audience. “Hoping your kids die before you get home, right?”

Some people laughed. Some ‘Ooo’ed.’ Richie held up his palm and rolled on. “I mean, c’mon, you know that teenager you hired to watch them is sending nudes to some guy twice her age right now while she drinks the Robitussin in your cabinet and your kid is choking on a Lego, right? Don’t lie and tell me you checked her fucking references! You just wanted to get out of the house and have a good time, so you shoved a twenty at a shit show and didn’t think twice, am I right?”

Most came along with him by the end, but Richie sensed the animosity, the resistance in their response before he returned to the prepared program. Making his exit, Richie reflected, a bilious guilt bubbling in his esophagus. Though often raunchy, Richie’s comedy never truly went dark or hurtful. He didn’t understand where the impulse came from, especially since it was as if the joke materialized in his mind fully formed.

“Wow, Richie, that was great!” Eddie clapped Richie’s wide back, grinning.

Richie nodded, hoping his face formed something resembling a smile. “Thanks. So, um…” Looking past Eddie, Richie swallowed hard and considered the bar. Richie wanted a drink. No. Richie wanted to get hammered. But Eddie couldn’t see him that way. Not yet. “What do you wanna do?”

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Eddie suggested as they headed toward the door.

Shrugging as they emerged into the brisk night, Richie paused. “We could go to mine if you want. I’m just a couple of blocks away. But I’m good either way.”

“Oh okay, sure. I’ll drive though. I don’t want to leave my car here.” Richie nodded, following Eddie to his black SUV and directing him to his building.

Once Richie unlocked his place, Eddie’s mouth hung in shock. Frankly, he was terrified of letting one of his expensive Italian leather shoes cross the threshold. Eddie tried to wipe the judgmental expression from his face, but Richie clocked him, smiling wryly. “Yeah, I know…” Tugging Eddie in by the tie, Richie giggled. “I’m a slob. I’m sorry. I could make an excuse and say I didn’t know you were coming. But to be honest, I probably wouldn’t have cleaned even if I did.”

Eddie gawked at the biohazard before his feet. Rumpled clothing. Half consumed snacks. Scattered blu-rays and vinyls.  _ How the hell is this man alive? _

“No, um…” Clearing his throat, Eddie bobbed his head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it…”

Dark brow creeping up his high forehead, Richie smirked. “Uh-huh. You look real fine with it, Eds.”

“Sorry, I just…” Eddie shifted a toe away from something he thought might be a t-shirt. “Like things...neat. I guess…”

“I noticed.” Richie chuckled, opening the refrigerator. “You want anything to drink? Water? Beer? I’ve got bourbon and a few other things, too.” When Eddie asked if he had any whisky, Richie breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps if they both got drunk and silly, he needn’t be self conscious and he could shake off his mind for the night. “Here you go.”

Eddie accepted the liquor with thanks, noticing Richie tossed his back rather quickly. “So, um…” Spotting the couch overrun with a number of unidentifiable items, Eddie parked himself against the counter. “What would you like to do?”

Pouring himself another bourbon, Richie hitched up a vast shoulder. “I’m okay just chilling, honestly, if you are. I get kind of wound up after a show. Need to come down.”

Watching Richie swallow another double, Eddie tipped his back in an effort to keep up.  _ Apparently.  _ “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m up for just hanging out.” 

Richie cleared two of the kitchen chairs, plopping the stack of books, mail, and whatever else haphazardly on the floor and gesturing for Eddie to sit. Eddie shed his jacket, turning the luxuriant fabric inside out before draping it carefully over the chair and untying his shoes. 

Legs wide and bottles poised, Richie beamed at Eddie as he rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, patiently folding, folding, folding until he revealed his carved forearms. Richie supposed this might be as casual as Eddie got, and the sight of him propped elegantly in his loosened tie and suspenders was beyond endearing. 

“So, how was work?” Richie tried to savor the amber liquid over his tongue, but his woeful spirit urged him to pound back a third installment.

Eddie chuckled, topping off his glass. “Richie, you really don’t have to pretend to be interested in what I do. I know you think it’s boring as shit.”

“Aw, Eddie I don’t think working in insurance is boring.” Reaching forward, Richie took Eddie’s hand and smiled consolingly. “I know it fucking is.”

Laughing, Eddie shook his head. “You asshole.” Eddie nudged Richie with a socked foot under the table. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”

“Thanks.” Richie winked over the rim of his glass and Eddie let his gaze fall, playing with the condensation on his drink.

Sipping, Eddie ticked up his chin. “That must get annoying.”

“What’s that?”

“Everyone expecting you to be funny all the time.” Eddie shrugged. “I would think that’s difficult. People wanting you to be the entertainment everywhere you go.”

Mouth settling into a flat line for a moment, a half smile appeared on Richie’s face with a light huff before he finished his bourbon. “Yeah, it’s...it can be a lot. Sometimes it seems like…” Richie hesitated, picking at a glob of dried jelly on the table. “Like that’s all people think I’m good for…”

Eddie stared at Richie’s downcast face. Sympathy never came easily to him, but he wanted to try, at least, to offer some semblance of comfort. “That’s not true, Richie.” Voice soft, Eddie placed his hand halfway between them. “You’re...you have a lot of great qualities.”

The corner of Richie’s wide mouth hitched up, dark blue eyes far away. “Thanks. Yeah, Gabe used to say--” Sturdy jaw cementing, Richie froze. Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’ll…” Richie nudged the bottle away from himself with a nod. “I’ll stop.”

“Was Gabe your…?”

Bobbing his head, Richie crossed his firm arms, eyes misty behind his glasses as he bit his lip. After a beat of silence, he chuckled sadly. “I guess you’re right, Eds. I am good for something else.” Richie pushed his curls back with a sigh. “Being a total bummer when I’m drunk.”

“Oh Richie, you--” Eddie started, but Richie stood. Wavered. Getting to his feet, Eddie looped an arm around Richie’s soft middle. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, um…” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Richie wobbled. “Sorry...I just...I drank too much, and, um…” Richie licked his pink lips, blinking rapidly. “I...I don’t eat before shows because I get so nervous, so…”

Nodding, Eddie propped him against the counter. “Do you think you could eat something now? Toast? Crackers, maybe?”

“No…” Richie shook his head. “I’ll...I’ll just lay down, I think. I...I’m sorry, Eddie.” 

“Okay.” Draping one of Richie’s strong arms over his shoulders, Eddie led him down the hall to his bedroom. “Come on.”

Grimacing when Eddie turned on the light, Richie collapsed onto the mattress and Eddie removed his jeans, delicately taking off his glasses and placing them on the bedside stand. “You don’t have to do this…” Richie muttered, left eye sagging. “This isn’t your job…”

“I know that.” Eddie intoned gently, lifting the sheet over Richie before combing back his curls. “Hang on. I’ll be right back with some water.”

Finding a clean enough glass, Eddie returned and perched next to Richie, lifting his dead weight until his unfocused eyes flashed open. “Here. Drink all of this now. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Richie managed as best he could, rivulets eking out of the corners of his wide mouth and down the stubble of his neck. Eddie laid him down, returning with a refill and Richie narrowed his gaze. “Why are you so good to me?”

Pausing halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, Eddie tilted his head. Richie stared up at him with an expression Eddie never witnessed upon a partner’s face before. Insatiable lust, delirious rapture, bedraggled afterglow. Sure, Eddie was well-versed in all of these when it came to the visages of his lovers.

But not once did someone look at Eddie with...adoration. Richie’s deep blue eyes soft and sparkling, mismatched lids heavy as his mouth, a pout carrying unspoken words, called to Eddie in the silence stretching through his disarrayed room.

Eddie bent down, cupping Richie’s rough cheek as he linked their lips. Holding steady, Eddie breathed against Richie. Just breathed.

Parting, Eddie’s fingers trailed down Richie’s pale neck as he straightened up, voice almost inaudible as he returned to removing his shirt. “Because you deserve it, Richie.”

As Eddie crawled in behind in his boxers, tucking Richie into the curve of his taught body and pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, Richie wondered how many times he would cry in this man’s arms, how many times he would make a fool of himself in front of Eddie Kaspbrak when he didn’t even know his middle name yet. But, nestling back into Eddie’s warmth, as Richie’s cheeks dried and his head swam, he admitted he missed having someone around who cared enough to ensure that the next day, full of regret following his own mistakes, Richie would hurt a little less.

***

Mouth thick and eyes gummy, Richie tried to leave the bed, large foot catching in the sheet and nearly face planting before his arm shot out just in time to prevent his fall. Richie stumbled to the bathroom, zig zagging back blind before retrieving his glasses, narrowly avoiding knocking over the water before downing the glass in one go.

With a satisfied gasp, Richie turned and saw Eddie smirking, hair mussed and eyes puffy. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Alright.” Richie grinned, scratching through his brunette curls. “Thanks. And, um…” Plucking the sheet between them, Richie’s voice fell. “Thanks again. For last night. I...I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s okay.” Squeezing Richie’s hand, Eddie shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Removing his recently adorned glasses, Richie shifted towards Eddie, large hand sneaking beneath the sheets and grinning when he discovered Eddie’s morning erection. “Why, Mr. Kaspbrak…” Richie bit a lip, prominent eyebrows wiggling as he swiveled in close. “How ever will I thank you for your kindness?”

Eddie chuckled and rolled his eyes and Richie guided him onto his back, their lips meeting. Richie palmed Eddie’s length over his boxers, thoughtful and patient as he licked into Eddie’s mouth and his tall body rotated above. “Mmm…” Deep hum issuing from his solid chest, Richie’s gritty chin chafed as he kissed a path to Eddie’s ear, taking a handful of his ass. “You wanna roll over, Eddie? Hmm? Let me taste you?”

“Yes.” Eddie still couldn’t fathom how one touch of Richie’s huge hands, one whisper of his flinty voice, would cause him to willingly surrender all control as he did for no other, flipping onto his stomach and breath ragged as Richie worked his briefs off.

“Mmm…” A wide palm cracked over Eddie’s ass and he let out an inadvertent yelp, Richie chuckling in delight before he wriggled down and parted his cheeks. 

Eddie sensed Richie’s exhalations against the tender knot of muscle and tingled in anticipation. That is, until Richie giggled and pinched his ass. “Nice. Weird spot for ink, Eds, but okay. Must’ve been one hell of a trip to the tattoo shop.”

“What?” Blinking, Eddie craned back. “I don’t have a tattoo…?”

“Then what’s…?” Richie pulled at the skin surrounding Eddie’s hole, narrowing his cobalt eyes. “Hang on, let me get my glasses.” Cramming them on his face, Richie examined Eddie closely. “It sure looks like a tattoo...but I guess it’s just a weird birthmark then?”

Bending awkwardly, Eddie pulled at his own asscheek, but of course could see nothing. “What? What’s it look like?”

“Well, it’s...they’re like three little lines with flags on top.” Lower lip protruding, Richie tilted his head. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. And they’re...well, they’re black, Eddie.”

Eddie looked at him incredulously. “Are you fucking with me right now, Rich? Because if so, I’m not sure I exactly understand the joke angle.”

Richie giggled, palms upheld in defeat. “No, I swear! Here…” Snapping up his phone, Richie arched a dark eyebrow. “If you’re okay with it, I can take a picture and show you.”

“Yeah.” Settling back down on his stomach, Eddie nodded. “Show me.”

As Richie angled his camera, he muttered under his breath. “Dear Penthouse…” and Eddie glared back at him before he heard the click. “There, see?” Richie passed Eddie his phone, and sure enough, he saw three black lines with left facing dashes on top, “٦٦٦”, oddly perfect in their form and straightness. 

“Huh…” Eddie texted a copy of the picture to himself after studying the image for a moment. “Strange. Yeah, I guess...like you said. Just a birthmark or something. I’ll get it checked out though. Just in case.”

“Good plan.” Richie nodded, anchoring Eddie’s hips and lowering his face. “In the meantime, I don’t think licking at it will do either of us any harm, though…” 

Sandpaper cheeks scraped his own before Eddie felt Richie’s slippery tongue smearing lasciviously over his opening with a groan. Richie cracked Eddie open and consumed him like a ripe cantaloupe, supple lips smacking and swirling inside as his large hand snuck down to cup Eddie’s balls.

“Oh god...Richie,  _ yes!”  _ Eddie came up on his knees and Richie followed, crisp jaw digging forward as he began jerking Eddie’s leaking cock. 

Head down and rocking back into Richie’s chiseled face, Eddie panted a wet spot into the sheets and mewled in disappointment when the warmth of Richie’s tongue disappeared. “You want my fingers in your ass, Eds?” Richie tickled his hole teasingly and smiled. “Hmm? Want me to fuck this tight ass with my hand and suck your balls until you cum all over my filthy fucking sheets? Huh, Eddie?”

“ _ Fuck!” _ Eddie tossed his head back with a gasp, attempting to push Richie inside for a moment before he blinked away the haze of lust. “No, just...just fuck me, Richie!  _ Now! Please!” _

Richie slapped Eddie’s ass with a laugh. “Oh, a bit needy are we this morning, Eds?” Fuming, Eddie turned back with narrowed eyes to see Richie removing his shirt to reveal his firm chest and a smirk. “Don’t worry…” Leaving the mattress to shed his boxers, Richie grabbed the lube and a condom from the drawer before hopping back in and draping himself over Eddie, raw erection gliding into the cleft of his ass. “I won’t make you wait any longer. I know how badly you want my cock. Though…” Richie rolled the condom down, glopping the sticky liquid over himself and Eddie before poking his entrance with the wide head. “Maybe...I need to hear you say it first.”

“Say what, Richie?” Eddie bit off, wire tight and about two minutes from turning around to deck Richie if he wasn’t careful.

A breezy giggle and folded pink lips, Richie swiped the tip of his cock up and down, up and down, cruelly taunting until Eddie pounded the sheets in frustration. “Tell me.” Voice dusty gravel as he uttered through clenched teeth, Richie’s sculpted jaw popped with desire. “Tell me you want this cock, Eds. Otherwise…” Richie shrugged and pulled back, big fist pumping over his substantial erection. “Good fucking luck.”

“God fucking damnit, yes! Alright!” Coffee-colored eyes set to boil, Eddie shouted and flipped around. “I want your huge fucking cock! Are you happy, you evil fuck? Now stop teasing and get that fucking dick inside me before I strangle you, you big fucking asshole!”

Richie yanked Eddie back by the hair, rounded teeth closing over his earlobe as he surged forward with the first stretching inch. “Yesss.” Richie hissed, thrusting deeper, deeper, deeper until Eddie scrambled, fingers landing in Richie’s curls, at his love handle. “That’s exactly what I wanted to fucking hear, Eddie.”

Inching down to encase Eddie’s beseeching cock, Richie leaned back, pulsing gently inside of him as he held Eddie in his lap. “How do you want it?” Switching to a syrupy whisper, Richie’s pink lips skipped down Eddie’s cheek, over the back of his neck, and up the other side with a moan. “Huh, Eds? Like this?” Bodies a wave of languid euphoria, with every kiss, every stroke, Eddie melted further into Richie’s pallid flesh, head tilting back over his broad shoulder. Eddie hummed in hazy contentment, nuzzling into Richie’s rough cheek and kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“Or do you want it hard?” Without warning, Richie’s muscular thighs clapped against Eddie’s ass with a heated vigor as he sank his rounded teeth into Eddie’s neck. “Hmm? Tell me, Eds.” Richie polished the head of Eddie’s cock, large thumb digging tantalizingly into his frenulum. “However you like it…that’s how I wanna fuck you.”

“Um…” Eddie, typically self assured and confident in all matters when it came to sex, found himself at a loss as Richie swiveled against him, tongue lacing over his ear. “Richie, I...maybe…” Licking his lips, Eddie greedily pawed through Richie’s mop of fluffy curls, stealing his mouth for a sloppy kiss. “Like this? At first?” Eddie nodded timidly, the desire to flinch away from the unforgiving blue expansive of Richie’s eyes nearly overwhelming. “Then, um...if you could...finish hard? I…” Caressing Richie’s sharp jaw, Eddie let his lashes fall. “I’d like that…”

“Okay, Eddie…” Richie’s words whispered into his mind as his powerful arm closed across Eddie’s midsection. “I got you…”

Undulating together, Richie hugged Eddie to his solid chest, his heartbeat radiating through Eddie’s back. First a persistent thrum, then a resounding beat, then a boom drowning out his consciousness, flooding Eddie in a black, vibrating darkness where Richie’s pulse echoed through the depths of his brain like a war drum. 

Eddie looked down at his body, suspended in nothingness, limbs continuing to move, to writhe, a marionette of ecstasy, though no strings held him aloft. He could feel Richie around him, within him, but craning his neck, Eddie saw no tall, admiring comedy man behind his wriggling form. 

Until a shadow moved in the ether. An arm, Eddie thought. Perhaps a calve. The outline made itself known gradually, as if an artist were drawing before Eddie’s wide, disbelieving brown eyes and hadn’t quite figured out how they wanted to develop the sketch.

Two people materialized. Richie and the same petite, sandy haired man Eddie witnessed previously, who he could only assume to be Gabe. Eddie couldn’t hear their words, but based on the body language, they were arguing. No. With Richie’s pink, shouting face and Gabe’s tears as he hollered back, this was no argument. This was a fight. Full of hot blood and hasty words, both ripping unwarranted wounds into the other and grinding in fistfuls of salt in their rage.

Gabe disappeared off to Eddie’s right. Richie on the couch. Head down and fingers yanking at his curly hair with such force Eddie tried calling out:  _ Stop. Don’t. You’re hurting yourself.  _ But no sound emerged from his voice box as Eddie remained trapped, the growing sensation of an orgasm a flicker on his periphery as the scene faded, morphed.

Richie in bed. Staring at the ceiling, the cold sheets, the wall. A large hand reached for a lit phone in Richie’s empty room. Rising. Panic. Richie vomited between his knees before snatching up his glasses. Pulling on clothes backwards before rushing from the house, face a disaster of fear and grief.

Eddie closed his eyes. Focused his attention on his own skin, the strong, sure hands he could still feel running over his cock, his chest, even though he couldn’t see them. He didn’t understand why he saw these images. Didn’t know what they meant for him personally. Or if they were real, even. Perhaps it didn’t happen that way at all. What if Eddie were to ask Richie how Gabe died, and there never was such a fight, such a phone call?

But Eddie knew better. Knew the vision held truth, whether he wanted it to or not. Eddie’s eyelids opened, and once again all he saw was darkness. But he was not shrouded in Richie’s harrowed past, but face down in the mattress, throat sore from screaming as Richie ruthlessly hammered with his massive cock. “ _ Richie!” _ Gasping, Eddie’s cum splattered over the sheets, and as he shivered he wondered if he said anything during his absence, or merely moaned in wordless rapture.

Hurling his pelvis forward, Richie dragged Eddie back onto his throbbing cock, face scrunched and crisp jaw hanging. “ _ Oh Eddie! Fuck! Fuck, I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum in your tight little ass! Yes! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” _ Richie’s lengthy fingers bruised Eddie’s hips as he shuddered, a high whine huffing between his rounded teeth before he deflated. Peppering uncoordinated kisses between Eddie’s shoulder blades before extricating himself, Richie rose on wobbly legs to dispose of the condom and Eddie smiled at his tiny retreating ass, curling into the stained sheets to await his return.

Richie hopped back in bed, looping a firm arm around Eddie with little squirming noises of joy until he secured him into every cranny of his strong, plush body, a shapely leg lassoing Eddie in with a smile.

“Jesus, Rich…” Eddie laughed, mouth smushed into Richie’s sweaty, pasty neck. “What are you, a fucking squid?”

“Mmhmm…” Nodding, he scrubbed Eddie’s temple with his cheek uncomfortably and Eddie winced, but said nothing as Richie held him tighter. “I am. Yeah, like…” Richie paused, blinking. “Wait...what kind of a sound do squids make?”

Retracting just enough to look up at Richie in bewilderment, Eddie stuck out his lower lip. “You know...I have no idea. Maybe...they don’t really. But,” Eddie shrugged and patted Richie’s little ass endearingly. “If they did, I bet you’d be the only freak who could manage it.”

A warm, uneven smile broke Richie’s weary face before he touched his pink lips to Eddie’s nose. “Thanks, Eds.”

Snuggling up, discomfort didn’t begin to describe the position in which Eddie fell asleep. And with his elbow in Richie’s ribs, and the angle of his neck, he couldn’t imagine Richie was especially cozy either. But, inhaling Richie’s scent, a perfect mixture of unctuous earthen and light airy notes, and secure in the hammock of his limbs, Eddie wouldn’t move for all the kingdoms in the world and their splendor.

***

Waking late the next morning, Richie admitted he could offer Eddie little more than toast, the two exchanging a quickie of gasping mouths and hungry hands in the shower before they dressed and went out for breakfast. Not trusting Richie’s judgement when it came to matters of food, Eddie suggested his favorite brunch spot and drove them to the upper East side. When they arrived, Richie boggled as to how Eddie waltzed past the line of angry wanna-be patrons, nodding to the maitre ‘d and securing them a table without issue.

_ Swanky _ . Richie thought as he shook out the cloth napkin over his lap, once again feeling underdressed across from Eddie’s flattering dark suit and the other exquisite attendees. “So, what're you going to get?” Opening the menu, Richie balked at the ridiculous prices, particularly since this seemed like a ‘three-bites-of-complicated-garbage-on-a-fancy-scrap-of-china’ kind of a place before lifting a dark brow to Eddie.

“I like their lamb and rutabaga hash, personally.” Eddie nodded, raising two fingers, which soon resulted in a waiter rushing to Richie’s vast shoulder with such speed he flinched. 

“Yes, Mr. Kaspbrak?” 

Mouth tightening, Richie observed the young man, pen poised and attention rapt. He thought he spotted a slight tremor through his lithe frame as he took Eddie’s order before turning his beady, begging eyes to Richie. “And for you, sir?”

“Yeah, um…” Richie cleared his throat, looking back down at the menu, trying to re=familiarize himself with the choice that vacated his mind. “I’ll...I’ll have the eggs benedict. Thank you.”

With a bow and a hand outheld, the waiter offered Richie a smarmy smile which caused an eruption of goosebumps over his wan flesh. “Very good, sir.”

Richie returned the menu with a hesitant nod, thankful when the creepy man vacated their table before he leaned into Eddie, voice low and thumb pointing back toward the kitchen. “What the fuck is with that guy?”

“Who, Andras?” Eddie glanced after the disappearing weasel of a man. “What? He’s great. Been here for years. One of the best.”

Prominent brows shooting up his high forehead while Eddie occupied himself with examining his fingernails, Richie chose not to comment and scanned the surroundings. “Do you…” Richie started, biting his lip. “Do you really…”

Eddie perked up, seeing words bubbling behind Richie’s puffed cheeks. “Really what?”

Cobalt eyes gluing to the ceiling, Richie exhaled audibly. “Like this place? I mean...this kind of…” Still staring upward, Richie teetered his held, palms upheld in exasperation. “Snooty stuff?”

Eddie sat back. Smoothed his tie. Smiled. “Yes, Richie. I like quality. And…” Shrugging a shoulder, Eddie folded his hands. “I can afford the best, so why not enjoy it? I don’t have many vices. I don’t really drink, or do drugs, or buy luxury cars, or anything like that.” Eddie shook his head. “But when it comes to what I put in my body, on my body…” Plucking at his Italian suit, Eddie’s soulful brown eyes fell on Richie with a wink and a smirk. “I don’t settle.”

A coquettish giggle consumed Richie, shelf of his shoulders breaking as he fought the urge to cover his pink lips and passed it off as a scratch of his stubble. “Well, um…” Cheeks pink and left eye slivered, Richie looked to Eddie significantly, seeking a sexy tone, but voice coming out uneven in his exuberance. “Then I guess you’re in trouble, Eds, because I’m straight up tra--”

Richie froze, sapphire eyes planets in the solar system of his face exploding with horror. Twisting in his seat, Eddie turned and followed his line of sight to see a well-dressed man, staring at his phone as he threaded his other arm into a trenchcoat and made his way through the restaurant. “Richie, who--?”

“Fuck.” Tucking his head down, Richie shielded himself with a large, shaking hand as the man passed, oblivious to their presence as he studied his screen. “Fuck…”

Eddie watched him leave, eyes narrowed. The man seemed...familiar. Yes. Dar--something. A prospective client. Some years past. Eddie couldn’t recall the details precisely. But he knew he denied the man a policy because when their hands met, Eddie caught a vision of not one, nor two, but multiple accidents as a result of that same propensity to look at his phone while driving. “Richie...who was that?” 

Cords of his neck working in agony, Richie’s entire body bounced. The table bounced. And Eddie knew his leg must be pistoning doubletime under the table. “That was, um…” Richie gnawed his lip, nodding fast. “Tim Darlmouth. He...he was, um…” Mouth hanging open, Eddie thought Richie might be sick as his knuckles whitened around a fork. “The...the guy who…” Eyes falling shut, Richie pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long, slow breath. “He killed Gabe.”

Ice formed over Eddie’s curling spine. No air inhabited his lungs, and he thanked God for Richie's distraction as he groped for his water, sputtering droplets everywhere before he sopped his pocket square over his chin, blinking himself back to composure. “Oh...oh Richie, I’m…” Clearing his throat, Eddie sat back. “I’m so sorry. That’s...do you want to talk about it?”

“Well, he, um…” Richie swiped a finger under his glasses and began, but Eddie already knew. Tim texting and driving. Gabe crossing the street, upset after their fight. Richie never getting the chance to say goodbye. By the time Richie finished, cheeks wet and whisper shattered, Eddie’s nails carved half moons of guilt onto the opposite hand and he clenched his teeth with such force he swore he tasted powder.

Their food arrived and Eddie stared at the plates in defeat. “Richie, do you just want to leave?”

“Yeah…” Richie murmured softly, wiping the moisture from his face. “Yeah, thanks…” 

Not bothering to have them box up the leftovers, Eddie paid the tab and they walked outside. Hands in the pockets of his black jeans, Richie sniffed. “I, um…” Richie ticked his head down the street. “I think I’m just gonna walk. Be alone for a while. If that’s okay…”

“Sure, Richie.” Eddie took half a step toward him, then stopped. He didn’t know what to do in this situation. Consoling squeeze of the arm? Hug? Kiss goodbye? None of it felt natural to Eddie. And so he simply nodded. “Just...whenever you want. Give me a call, alright?”

“Yeah.” With a watery smile, Richie turned on his heel. “Thanks, Eds. I’ll...I’ll see you later.”

Eddie climbed into his SUV, watching Richie fade, smaller and smaller, tall frame weighed down by grief. And as he flipped the ignition, a hateful shame flooded Eddie’s gut. For though he didn’t have the words yet to describe the depth of his feelings for Richie, nor did he quite understand their existence in the first place, the knowledge that he could’ve prevented tragedy befalling Richie, haunted Eddie like a spectre ascending from underground.

***

Half blind with sorrow, a someone bumped into Richie and his glasses clattered to the pavement. “Fuck! Son of a bitch!” Richie spun in rage, but whoever they were, they apparently chose to scatter and Richie thankfully discovered his spectacles before he crunched them underfoot, lifting his collar up to clear his face before replacing them on his nose. 

Richie peered up and realized he stood below a sign reading ‘Goldschmidt Jewelers Est. 1867’ with several characters below he couldn’t read, though one seemed familiar…

Entering through the glass doors, a gray haired man glanced up, taking in Richie’s disheveled appearance and hurriedly hiding a tray of diamonds below the counter. “Hello, may I help you?”

“Yeah, um…” Richie pointed back toward the entrance. “Can you tell me what your sign says?”

The man stared at Richie like he was an idiot, spreading his arms wide. “It says this is a jewelry store. What? Do you not read English?”

“No, I mean…” Rolling his eyes, Richie scoffed. “Below that. What does it say, in the other language?”

Not appreciative of Richie’s attitude, the owner crossed his arms over his belly. “It says the same thing. But in Hebrew. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, no, of course not.” Richie held up his big hands defensively. “I just wanted to know. So, um…” Leaning to get a better angle on the sign, Richie’s expressive brows knit. “The one...that looks like…” Richie drew a line in the air with a left pointing dash on top. “That’s...that’s the number six?”

Mouth flat and eyes dead, the man sighed. “Are you going to buy anything?”

Richie let his arms fall. “No…”

“Then get out of my store.” Shooed him away, the owner started to bend down again when Richie fished out his wallet.

“Fine, just…” Flipping out a bill, Richie pleaded. “Just tell me. I’m sorry, I know it sounds weird. But what does that symbol mean, man?”

“Yes.” Accepting the money, the man nodded in acquiescence. “That is the Hebrew number six, ‘vau’.”

Broad frame stiffening, Richie stared blankly at a point a few feet in front of himself, mouth agape. “So...three of them would mean…”

“Get out!” Roaring, the shop owner stepped from behind the counter, ushering Richie to the door. “What the hell do you think you are, some kind of comedian? To come in my shop and talk about that filth as if it’s a joke? I will not have it! Out! OUT!”

Richie skidded back onto the sidewalk, nearly upending a woman carrying her groceries home. Unsure what to make of this revelation, whether he should tell Eddie, and emotions still roiling from the brush with Darlmouth, Richie shook out his limbs before continuing his trek, a faint mist pasting the dark curls to his troubled forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also take requests!


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